


Children of the Wolf

by Lauredessine



Series: The daughters saga [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: 10th Century, Aquitaine, Arranged Marriage, Courtroom Drama, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, Marriage Proposal, Nobility, Normandy - Freeform, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Rape Recovery, Romance, Seduction, Trial by Combat, Vikings, Violence, historical fiction - Freeform, medieval romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 83,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauredessine/pseuds/Lauredessine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gisla ordered Guillaume and Geirlaug, her children, to go to Paris to find a spouse for the young lady. But at the court of the king, nothing is quite simple and soon, they find themselves tangled in a scheme to invade and conquer their father's duchy. Geirlaug becomes the target of the count of Poitiers's desire and affection as well as his friend's hatred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chap1: A prestigious convoy

The convoy stopped. They were only a few miles away but they could clearly see the walls of Paris. The young man in front asked a silent question to the young lady following him with his green eyes to which she answered with a quick nodd. He spurred his horse on and all his suite followed. The young woman quickly came to his height and smiled mischieviously. His mouth widened to reveal his white teeths. It felt good to feel the wind in his hair. Though it was not the same violent wind he was used to in Normannia. His neighbour's hair slowly moved with grace revealing a sweet flowery fragrance. Her green eyes were shining with excitement.

They've only been to Paris once : when they were only two young childs. They went to introduce themselves to the yet king of Frankia : their grandfather. An idea of their mother. And now, this was another idea of their mother that led them to the walls of Paris again. Officially, they were here to present their respects to the new king -their uncle- in behalf of their father, the great Rollo, first duke of Normannia. But Guillaume was burdened with a secret mission his mother gave him. Secret, he wasn't able to hide from his sister as she discovered the truth a day earlier at their camp. There was no doubt of it : she knew how to gain informations. Yet, she smiled at him, excited by the idea of being at the court of Frankia. Guillaume smiled back at his little sister, happy to witness her that joyful.

They finally arrived in front of the main entrance to the city. The one the great army of their uncle, Ragnar Lothbrok, once broke through. It was an impressive scene for the citizen of Paris to witness. All respectfully stepped away from their path at the sight of their standard. All could clearly recognize the two lions of the young duchy of Normannia. The heir of the current duke, Guillaume was leading the way, followed by his sister, Geirlaug. Both rode large and muscular horses. Theirs were the most imposing. The two children of the duke were followed by some of their knights, their servants and a cart full of chests. All containing precious fabrics and gold. Never had the inhabitants of Paris seen such a prestigious convoy.

They handed their horses to the stable boys of the palace and Guillaume gave his orders to the servants and the knights to prepare their installation. He also gave them money for their hard work, suggesting they all go to drink a few glass of ale. All seemed to be happy with it. Guillaume always tried to treat his men right. A habit he inherited from his father.

\- Are you sure the king knows we are here, Geirlaug asked slightly worried.

\- I sent an emissary early this morning. Don't worry, he knows we're here, Guillaume said fixing his belt. How do I look, he asked to her turning on himself.

\- Disgusting, as always my dear brother, she teased him.

Guillaume gave her an amused smile. It was their game: constantly mocking each other. Though Geirlaug was better at this game. She was born with the fire of their mother and the sass of their father. She straightened her dress, adjusted her jewels and her hair and both entered the palace.

The scenery was grandiose. All walls were covered with richly embroidered tapestries, every corner of the rooms and the hallways had precious tables with precious objects on it. The floor itself was cleaner than any other castle floors they ever saw. The air was fresh, yet warm enough for them to take off their cloaks. All the palace smelled flowers and exotic fragrances imported from the farthest lands of the world. But the architecture of the palace was the one thing that made all of it the more impressive. The ceiling was high enough for a second floor. All the walls were made of the fairest stone and pillars made of the most beautiful marble were supporting the ceiling. The windows gave to the decor all the light it needed to shine. Even the darkest corner of the hallway was well lit. All of that enchanted pictures made the young duchess dizzy. Guillaume, him was too focused on what to say to the new emperor to notice where they were.

They finally arrived in front of an enormous door made of the most precious wood. Guillaume assumed that this was the door his father entered by to salute his mother the first time they met face to face. He told them that story a lot. As if it was the most romantic gesture she had toward him. But every time he told them that story, him and his siter bursted out of laughter. This time, it was their turn to enter that door. With quite the same goals. He glanced at her sister and both nodded as a sign of understanding. The guards opened the door and the two children of the duke entered the throne room.

\- The duke and the duchess of Normannia, a page announced.

All sight immediately went on them. They were imposing. Both taller than any of the people in the room, heads held high and richly dressed. Guillaume was the tallest. His dark hair were cut the frank way, though maybe shorter, his nose was straight, his mouth full, his jaw sharp, his eyebrows straight and bushy which highlighted his eyes made of a dark shade of green. His body sure could make some of the ladies in the room faint as he was as muscular as his father but slightly less wild. He was wearing a red tunic embroided with golden thread and his cape was made of the same material. Truly, the duke was handsome.

But the creature walking beside him was the most beautiful between the two of them. She was tall, just like her brother, but she was fairer, yet, wilder. Her hair were combed in a single braid, with some locks escaping from it. It wasn't too elaborate, but it was worthy of her northern legacy. Her eyebrows were as thick as her brother, yet they had a graceful shape. The color of her eyes was fairer than her brother's but they showed nothing but joy and mischief. She had a little nose and her lips were as full as her brother's. She was thin, yet muscular. And her burgundy dress was made of the most beautiful velvet. Her neck was adorned with a beautiful necklace made of gold. She was wild, but at the same time, she was delicate.

All stepped back in admiration. They dominated all the court by their height and their status. Guillaume stepped forward and kneeled before his uncle. Geirlaug did likewise, showing the most graceful bow. When he straightened up, the king spoke.

\- Welcome. I bid you both welcome here. I am very pleased to see you again nephew. It sure has been ages since we last seen each other.

\- Indeed my king. I came here in behalf of my father to pleadge alliegance to you and your children.

\- It is kind of you to travel such a distance just to pay your respects. I appreciate that.

\- My mother also entrusted me a letter for you.

\- My page will take it.

Guillaume gave the precious missive to the young man coming to get it with hesitation. The king read it without any consideration for all the court watching the scene. When he finished, a large smile appeared on his lips. He put the letter back on his table and stood up, his arm wide opened.

\- Nephew! How come you didn't tell me directly about this delicious news? I am glad your mother sent you both here. Please, be my guests and stay in Paris as long as you want. I'll have room prepared for you and your sister. Well, I guess you won't need to share the same room for too long, isn't it?

\- Yes, my king, Guillaume replied with a forced smile.

When they finished their introduction, they got out of the throne room to go and enjoy the quiet of their apartments. The less person the better they felt.

* * *

Once everything was unpacked and the ducal brother and sister installed, Geirlaug finally quit her ladylike attitude. She casually sat on her bed located by the window of their big bed chambers, not caring wether or not she showed her legs.

\- Finally some peace, she exclaimed. I can't believe how noisy the court is! All these noble ladies, don't you think they are a little bit too much? I mean, if it were me, I wouldn't wear that much silk and gold. They looks like these precious statues. They barely looks alive.

\- It seems I was mistaken, Guillaume said smiling.

\- About what?

\- I thought you were thrilled to live at the court.

\- I am, she objected standing up. It is just that I thought it would be different.

\- It is Geirlaug. Well, at least it is different than Normannia.

\- On that I totally agree. The air is way more fresh in Normannia, and the landscape are more impressive. Even if, I must say, the castle and the walls of Paris are amazing. But it is so overwhelming in here. I feel like I'm gasping for air every step I make.

\- And yet, you did quite an impression in the throne room earlier, her brother smiled to her.

\- Are you kidding? I am pretty sure you are the one who made the best impression, she smiled back teasing him. I mean, look at you, she pointed him with her hands. Tall, handsome, rich, and a duke! Oh my, you will attract so much ladies at the court. Too bad you're not the one who have to find a spouse, she teased him.

\- You think you are so funny...

\- Am I not, she asked faking surprise.

\- Funny, no. Sassy? A lot!

\- I'll take that as a compliment dear brother!

\- One day, I'll make you regret that insolent tongue, you know that right?

\- When northmen will wear horn helmets brother. Which means, never!

\- I can arrange that with father, Guillaume replied teasingly.

\- You know he has too much good taste to do that, she sighed amused.

\- Guillaume rolled his eyes grinning.

\- You know him too well!

Geirlaug laughed back at him and went to seek her in-progress tapestry. This was the only activity she could do to get rid of her boredom. Guillaume, him, was quietly reading by the fireplace. Both were exhausted by all the fuss of the court and their journey. The young duke's thoughts immediately rushed to Sprota, the beautiful Sprota. With her broken nose, her long bonde hair and her green eyes, she was the fairest lady of the duchy. Guillaume fell for her the moment he saw her in the streets of Rouen. She was not of poor condition. She was his father's most trusted chieftain's daughter. Rich enough to be married to a duke. He remembered he thought he had a holy vision when he noticed her by the well. How he fell for her so deeply even God couldn't go and save his soul. How her hair smelled like the sea. How soft was her skin. How full were her lips, and how generous were her hips.

\- Are you going to write to her, Geirlaug asked all of sudden.

\- What? Who, her brother replied genuinely surprised.

\- What do you mean, who ? Sprota obviously!

\- H... How did you...

\- I read it on your face, she calmly said. It was obvious.

Guillaume smiled to himself. His sister knew him too well. She always figured out people, even him. She was the best at discovering information.

\- Yeah. Yes I will write to her.

\- You do love her, she smiled at him. You are lucky to be in love.

She suddenly turned her head back at her tapestry all gloomy.

\- You are lucky you can marry someone you love. You were born a man, you can do whatever you please. I do not have that luck. I have to wed someone a father or you choose for me. It'll be a loveless marriage.

\- Geirlaug...

\- It's okay. I know you'll make the right choice. I trust you.

It hurt Guillaume to see her sister like that. She was so joyful normally. Never had she complained about being a woman. Usually she liked to prove that she was as strong as their father, which made their mother angry, but when it came to love, she was as fragile as a injured bird.

\- Besides, if mother eventually fell for father after their arranged marriage, that means there is still hope for me, she nervously laughed.

Guillaume laughed to himself. His father often told them the story of how he met their mother. Geirlaug used to say it was romantic while Guillaume made fun of his father about how ridiculous he was. Of course, his attitude toward love changed over the time. When he hit puberty, he finally understood what it implied to be in love and to want to seduce women. For Geirlaug it was different. She used to dream about princes and knights in shiny armour when she was young, wanting nothing less than to be loved unconditionally. But when their mother taught her the life of a duke's daughter, she became more quiet on the subject. Many times she told her brother she felt trapped. And her condition wasn't going to be better anytime soon.

\- I don't want to be a man's property, she said fiercely. I want to be his equal.

Guillaume smiled proudly. She really took after their father.

\- Well, I guess I will have a better idea of who to choose tomorrow at breakfast.

\- I suppose. Just don't choose someone smaller than me. Or too precious. I don't like these kind of men. I prefer them with muscles and beard.

\- Like northmen you mean, Guillaume asked mischieviously. Mother would not appreciate your choices my dear sister.

\- Well mother married one of them, so who is she to judge?

\- Any other things you hate on men?

\- Yes. I don't want a womanizer. I want someone who is quiet. Not a smart one, but nor an idiot. He needs to be attractive, but not too much and please don't pick an insanely rich man.

\- You're making this horribly difficult.

\- I thought you liked challenges, she replied faking innocence.

\- I do. But this... this is an impossible quest.

His sister mischieviously smiled at him. She truly loved to torture her big brother. After all, that was what little sisters were born to do. She turned back to the window and looked at the view. They could see the Seine clearly, the sun illuminating the water and the forest they had to crossed to get in the city. Geirlaug wondered why they didn't come by boat.

She always loved sailing and her father had the best boats of all the kingdom. She loved the speed, the feel of the wind on her cheeks, her nose turned red because of the cold air of the wild sea, the sound of the waves against the skiff of the longboats. She loved when her hair smelled like the sea, feeling the water wet her body. She loved speed so much she often came back from these trips tired and dizzy. Sailing was her most favourite activity. Many times, her mother scolded her. Apparently that was not an activity fitted for a lady, and even less for the daughter of a duke and a princess. Here, in that big city, there was nothing like these feelings. The Seine was to calm, the air wasn't fresh enough and she could hear the sound of Paris from her window. She missed Normannia, and more importantly, she missed her father. At least he understood her and her need of freedom. At least he always considered her as an equal. She wondered if he was aware of the mission her mother gave to Guillaume. She wondered if he betrayed her.


	2. Chap2: Getting informations

They both had trouble sleeping that night. They were not used to their beds and the noise of Paris kept them awake until a late hour. Obviously, when Geirlaug woke up, her hair was incredibly tangled. Her maids worked for an hour for her to show a decent face. Her lack of sleep made her grumpy and when her brother entered the room, she immediately hissed at him.

\- What are you doing here? Can't you see that I am getting dressed?

\- I must take a bath, her brother yawned back.

He made a move with his hand and a few servants brought a tub filled with hot water. Without caring for his sister's eyes, he undressed himself and slipped into the tub.

\- Could you at least wait until I finish getting ready for today?

\- Whatever! You saw me naked plenty of times.

\- That's it! I'm leaving, she hissed standing up.

She slammed the door and went to change her clothes in her bed chambers. When she finally was ready, she went to explore the palace. It was huge, she doubted to see everything by midday. Her steps were sure and assured. She saw many bedchambers along the way, rooms she didn't dare to enter because of their hypotethic occupants. She was curious, yes, but not to the point of invading someone's privacy. It was a line she never crossed. So, of course, when her brother entered the room naked earlier, she was highly uncomfortable. She was not very comfortable with men's intimacy in general, but somehow, maybe because he was her brother, Guillaume was the only one she could bear.

A door was open at the end of the corridor. Her curiosity prevailed on her inhibitions and she went to investigate the mysterious room. The ceiling was high, banners were hung on walls made of white stone. All the rom smelled a spicy fragrance and it highlighted a very masculine and oppressive atmosphere. Her eyes stopped a moment on the massive desk at the center of the room. It was covered with books, quills inks and several other objects. There were maps at one side of the desk and she couldn't help but to grab one and look at it with interest.

Her eyes roammed the piece of parchment. Among other things she recognized the coast line of her father's duchy and the roads leading to Rouen, Lexovias and Baiocas. On the map were indicated all the strongholds of Normannia. She understood every informations on the map. She might be a woman but she knew what war and invasions maps looked like. Her mother and her father took great care of that. Her fingers touched the parchment lightly, drawing the lines, deducing battle strategies and sieges to come. Suddenly she heard the sound of steps behind her. Those were steps of a man of a certain age and he stopped right behind immediately took a defensive stance: she knew she was in danger and thus she needed to protect herself. But she also knew that she had to behave differently to avoid suspicions. She relaxed her muscles and played her most stupid smile. She put her hand on her chest theatrically and began to chuckle.

\- My, you really surprised me my lord, she said feigning innocence.

\- What are you doing in this room, the man asked back without any delicacy.

Her speaker was quite tall for a Frank and he was old, but less than her father. Perhaps his age was closer to her mother's. He was quite fat but Geirlaug knew to recognize muscles behind the fat. She knew not to trust apperarance. This man might be old but everything in him emitted power and use of war. He had a broken nose, his grey hair was tied behind his head, a large scar on his cheek gave the hint that he fought in the past. As for clothes, he was dressed as a powerful Frankish noble. Truly, the man was impressive and Geirlaug immediately knew not to underestimate him.

\- I just wandered around and I saw that the door was open. I just couldn't resist.

\- What do you have in your hand, the man barked at her.

\- I believe this is a map of some sort, she answered not offended by his tone. But I can't read it. Could you possibly tell me what this map is? What are all those signs? What does they mean? I just want to know what...

\- This is none of your buisness, the old lord cut her. Get out of that room.

Geirlaug stepped forward.

\- And give me this, he barked again taking the map from Geirlaug's hands brutally.

His action teared an offended squeal from the young duchess. The man practically kicked her out of the room and she found herself at the door all alone.

* * *

She walked until she saw the gardens of the palace. Now she could be at peace at last. Her mind was racing, thinking, processing the informations she just discovered. Should she inform her brother about this? After all, he was their father's heir, he should be the one taking decisions and inform the old duke. But what if what she discovered was wrong? What if she was mistaken? This could lead to a terrible diplomatic crisis and even to a civil war. Something she had to avoid at all costs to keep her father's duchy safe and not disappointing her mother. Who was that man? She supposed she was going to be introduced to him soon enough. All those maps were streaming in her head and without even realizing it her brain was now filled with lines on parchment.

To think she was supposed to choose a husband and she was now involved in a court scheme. She really had the gift of getting informations. And at this moment she half cursed this gift. Her hair was loose on her shoulders though she braided some of her locks to honor her father and his culture. Her dress was made of green silk and her long sleeves were almost reaching the floor when she lowered her arms. She carefully added some flowers and jewels on her hair and inside her braids. As for jewels, her neck was adorned by a beautiful necklace. Some might say she was the most beautiful flower of the garden.

She was so focused on the maps she discovered she didn't notice the two men standing in front of her and busted in one of them. She hit him so hard he fell on the floor. The shock brought her back to reality and she immediately rushed to the poor sould she pushed on the floor.

\- I am sorry. I am terribly sorry my lord! I didn't see you, she apologized nervously.

\- It is okay, the victim said laughing. I couldn't pick more beautiful flower to push me on the floor.

\- Count Guillaume, are you okay? Do you want me to punish this girl?

\- No, count Robert, my friend. Clearly she didn't pay attention.

\- Who is your father girl? You'll have to pay for your actions, Robert barked at her.

At this last sentence Geirlaug's attitude changed. She apologized. She was behaving like a lady, like her mother taught her. She tried her best to be compassionnate and polite, but this, this was enough. And she had enough people barking at her for the day. She was running out of patience and her blood sufddenly boiled in her veins. It was the same feeling she felt befor a fight or a training. The need to use violence. She looked at the count and sized him up. She could win against him easily: he seemed weak, less strong than her father and her brother, and she trained with both. Geirlaug knew her strenghts. She knew that if she had a knife she could kill him within a few seconds. But again, she had to protect her brother, her father and their duchy. She had to preserve peace at all costs and it meant behaving like a lady. She stood up and took her most majestic stance. She looked straight to her offender's eyes and said without even blinking:

\- My name is Geirlaug, my father is Duke Rollo of Normannia. Surely he would love to hear about that. Perhaps you could meet him and tell him about my "terrible action". It clearly would increase his pride. For my father is very proud of myself and my brother.

\- Duke Rollo? Well now, that explains everything. Only a bastard, a heathen, could be that indelicate and stupid, Robert said with disdain.

Now, Geirlaug was making tremendous efforts not to kill this man with her bare hands. But she had a weapon much more sharp than a knife: her tongue.

\- Be careful, my lord. My father may be a Frank noble now but he still killed many men in the past and I highly doubt he isn't ready to do it again. And talking about delicacy. How rude of you to insinuate that I am a bastard. My mother, the princess of Frankia married my father before God and she gave me all the education a lady needs to receive. See, the thing is, my lord, that I know that I am not stupid, the proof being that I can think of a hundred ways to discredit you before my uncle, the king, and to end you. So you better not calling me these names, she said smiling sure of herself.

The count stepped back, slightly afraid while his friend, count Guillaume stood up and laughed. Robert looked at him, offended that his friend could find her speech funny.

\- Forgive me my friend, Guillame said still laughing, but clearly this "bastard" is brighter and stronger than you thought.

\- Nevertheless, she stays a heathen. A pagan!

\- How dare you my lord, Geirlaug said offended.

\- Is it true? Are you a pagan, Guillaume jokingly asked.

\- No. our mother took great care of our religious education and we never worshipped any of our father's gods. And I cannot believe you assume we are pagan just because our father is a viking! You are just like that cunt that you call a friend, she spat at him. You ignorant!

\- HOW DARE YOU INSULT THE COUNT LIKE THAT YOU STUPID COW!

Now, Geirlaug's hands were turning red. She was squeezing her fists, ready to punch and to kill. That man was rude and he needed to be reminded that even if she was a woman she still had a higher rank than him.

\- HOW DARE YOU INSULTING ME LIKE THAT? ME! A DUCHESS! THE DAUGHTER OF A PRINCESS!

She shouted so hard all the palace probably heard her. She took a step forward, looking at her enemy in the eyes. Her green eyes became two suns, filled with fire. A coward could say that they were throwing flames. The count saw anger, violence and the urge to kill in her eyes and stepped back. Geirlaug stopped for a second, her eyes still burning with disgust and hatred and said perfectly calm:

\- Don't ever insult or offend me again. Otherwise, be ready to face my wrath.

Then she turned back to enjoy her bedchambers again and to calm herself. She needed some quiet and a nap. She left the gardens and two men, one both frightened and angry and another amazed and intrigued.

* * *

Her nap didn't last long enough. Her brother quickly came to wake her up to go eat with the king. Geirlaug grumbling and woke up growling.

\- Why should I bother to go? All the nobles are rude anyway!

\- Because you have to find a husband. Remember? And I highly doubt mother will leave me alive if she knew I failed my mission.

\- Aren't you old enough to defend yourself? You're a grown man, I don't think she can kill you that easily.

\- Tell that to father! She almost killed him during their first night as husband and wife.

\- As if, she said standing up, he could have been killed with a mere knife! My, what would he say if he knew you don't trust his strength? What a disappointment to hear your own son saying you are weak, she joked.

\- At last! You are back to your joyful self, Guillaume laughed. I missed you little sister! For a moment I thought I had a beast in front of me!

Suddenly Geirlaug's face changed and she showed an angry and annoyed face.

\- Why does everyone remind me that I am part viking?! This is so infuriating!

\- What do you mean, her brother asked worried.

\- Nothing, she quickly said. Let's go and eat. I am starving.

When they arrived in the dining room they instantly were guided to the king's table. As relatives, they had to be placed there. Geirlaug knew this wouldn't please the other nobles of the court. She could already feel their jealousy and hatred. But she kept her head held high. She was a lady, a duchess and she shouldn't forget that. They sat after the king and the procession of the meals begun. Guillaume was sit beside the king and Geirlaug beside her brother. While they were eating Geirlaug asked to her brother:

\- So? Do you see anyone interesting in there? Any potential spouse?

\- Maybe... I am looking for a man not too old, nor too young. About the same age as you. And I can only count three men corresponding to that.

\- Three? Can you show them to me?

With discretion, Guillaume raised his finger to the three me he noticed. One of them was too fat for Geirlaug's taste and the other two were the men she encountered in the garden this morning. She noticed that one of them was looking at her intensly. It was the count she pushed on the floor. The man was smiling at her and when he noticed her, he raised his cup to her. Geirlaug immediately turned her face. Why was this rude count smiling at her? Was he amused by her presence? Was she that funny to watch? Her brother noticed her change of attitude and asked:

\- Do you know that man already?

\- Yes. Yes brother I do. He is rude and he and his friend insulted and offended me this morning. They also dared to insult the duchy. Something I cannot tolerate! Please! Do not pick any of these men, they are not worthy of being united with us! I cannot marry a man who does not respect me or the duchy and thus my family.

\- Your pride will get you in trouble one day my dear sister, Guillaume said tired.

\- Well then perhaps I should find a coven and finish my days as a nun!

\- Though I believe it would please mother, father will never allow it. He isn't keen on sacrificing anything to God.

\- I know. Well, for you and our family, I will make efforts. But do not ask me to love and respect them. I can only tolerate their presence for now.

\- Fine. I will speak to them after dinner.

Geirlaug turned back to her food and began to eat while staring at the count Guillaume who wasn't looking at her anymore. He was quite handsome for such a rude man. Taller than most of the Franks but still shorter than her brother and her, he was thin but he was finely built and Geirlaug knew that below his clothes were muscles almost as sharp as her brother's. As for his face, it was the face of an angel. He had big brown eyes, a smile which could make every lady in the room faint if they weren't married already, a straight nose which end was round, thick eyebrows and curly brown hair. His skin was more tan than her brother's and she deduced he was a noble from the south. He was handsome. If she didn't hate him already, she could have easily fell for him.


	3. Chap3: The count of Poitiers

The banquet took several hours to finish. The guest's bellies ached of all of the food they wolfed, of course, Guillaume and Geirlaug's made no exception. The young duke was one of the last to go out of the room and so was the count Guillaume. When the duke arrived past the door of the dining room, the count held him back, his hand on his shoulder.

\- I am sorry, the count said hesitantly, I should probably have introduced me to you earlier but I assumed that with your long voyage from Normannia to Paris, you were too tired for this. I am the count Guillaume of Poitiers and I hope, if the king agrees to my request, duke of Aquitaine.

\- Nice to meet you count Guillaume. Your father had very good taste in names, Guillaume laughed.

\- Yours too, the count laughed back. He is known to be a great warrior back in Aquitaine. I suppose it wasn't easy to grow up with such a father.

\- Actually, he was the best father a son could ever have. He always says that he wants us, my sister and I, to succeed in life. He often ask me to bring more fame to our family. If I remember correctly, your father fought against mine didn't he?

\- Yes, the count replied blushing. I hope you won't hate me because of this... incident.

\- Do not worry, I do not hold grudges about past events that doesn't concern me directly. I hope that our families can become close friends and perhaps allies.

\- Speaking of which, I could not help but notice your sister. I met her earlier in the gardens and I...

\- Insulted her.

Guillaume looked at the count's face. At first he was surprised and after a few seconds he burst out of laughter.

\- I think you are highly mistaken dear duke, Guillaume said still laughing. Perhaps she felt insulted but it was never my intention to hurt her feelings. Actually, I think that your sister is the most wonderful creature on this earth. She is so fierce and strong. She must be the pride of your father.

\- I know what you mean. She can be so stubborn sometimes. But what bothers me is that she said to me that you insulted the duchy of our father.

\- Again, you are mistaken, duke Guillaume. I would never dare to insult any noble's property. Not when its heiress is as beautiful and strong as your sister.

\- She made quite an impression on you count. You can't stop talking about her, Guillaume teased his homonym.

\- She did. I never met any woman like her. And I can tell you that I knew a lot of women. Back in Aquitaine, women are firey, but not as firey and wild as your sister. Are every women like this in Normannia?

\- No. Well, not all of them. The one who are from northern descent are more wild, because of their culture, whereas frankish women tends to be calmer and more... how to say this... more ladylike.

\- I would love to learn more about Normannia's culture and the culture of the northmen. Can you teach me?

\- Well, yes. But I have to warn you, our mother raised us to be good christians so I doubt I could teach you a lot about my father's gods. Our people are...

\- Why do you even bother, brother, Geirlaug asked her brother brutally behind him. You know he doesn't really care.

Geirlaug only heard the end of their conversation, but this count highly disgusted her. He had a way of talking about the women he knew so disdainful. Clearly he was bragging of all his conquests and she hated it. How could he say she made an impression on him, when he spoke of women like whores? When he asked about Normannia, she couldn't hold her anger no more. So she stepped out of the dining room to confront this southerner.

\- Of course I care, my lady Geirlaug. What kind of man would I be if I didn't try to understand the woman I admire's customs?

\- So this is all a trick to get me in your bed then? How rude is this! You southerners are all the same. You only consider women as whores, Geirlaug coldly said giving the count a deadly stare.

\- Geirlaug, Guillaume angrily said between his teeth. That is enough! If mother saw you...

\- If mother saw me, she'd support me. I won't shut up to give this bastard satisfaction, she suddenly said in Norse. He offended me.

\- No he didn't, her brother continued in Norse. He told me that he admire you and I believe him.

\- So you chose to believe him and not me? Your own sister, Geirlaug asked hurt.

\- Yes. Because you are easily offended. Your blood boils too quickly, my dear sister, and you have to learn to forgive. You are not behaving like a good christian.

Geirlaug blushed and bowed her head. She was angry at her brother for his lack of support, but she knew he was right and that hurt her even more. But after all, her mother always taught her that a good christian woman had to be forgiving, just as she was toward her husband who slayed many of her soldiers and made the people of Paris suffer when he raided with king Ragnar Lothbrok a long time ago. So Geirlaug forgave. But it didn't mean she had to forget.

\- I admit that you are right, Geirlaug whipered in Norse. But hear my advice: do not trust people that easily ever again. This is Paris's court and I am weary of all those nobles. Mother often told us that the court was the place where backstabbing happens the most. I am just trying to preserve us.

\- By keeping away potential allies, Guillaume asked pissed.

\- No, by keeping away potential backstabber and traitors. You'll recognize them by their disdain toward Normannia or our father, she quietly said. For now, I will forgive this man's attitude earlier in the garden. Perhaps I overreacted.

\- Fine. I am glad you heard reason.

The count Guillaume heard their entire conversation in Norse with a marveled face. This language highly fascinated him and it was so beautiful and bewitching in the young duchess's mouth. He watched the entire time her delicate lips forming the words, her tongue brushing against her teeths, her face, so proud and wild. When she became calm, he almost regretted it. But seeing this other side of her increased his interest in the young woman. She was a marvel. She proved herself to be fierce, proud, smart and now, he learnt she could speak two tongues. How he wished for her to give him lessons. Intimate lessons. How he wished to touch her porcelain skin, to feel her lips under his fingers, and to smell her long hair. Just thinking about that almost made him hard. He felt like his desire would never end.

Geirlaug turned her face to him and took a proud stance again. Her eyes were burning with anger and disdain. For a moment, he thought she knew what happened in his mind. Did he said it out loud? He highly doubted it since her brother didn't kill him at once. She stepped toward him and said with a soft voice, in Frankish this time:

\- I apologize for my behaviour dear count. Obviously I overreacted in the gardens earlier. I also apologize for insinuating that you were a womanizer.

\- I forgave you as soon as you walked outside the gardens, your grace. And I am not offended by the term "womanizer". May I just tell you that I really like your tongue? This is one of the most beautiful language I ever heard.

\- Thank you, my lord, she said sarcastically. I am glad you enjoyed our conversation. In the future, I will try to insult you as much as possible in that tongue.

Her brother immediately turned his head, looking at her angrily, while the count burst out of laughter once again.

\- I look forward to hear it, he laughed.

Geirlaug only gave him a cold stare and walked toward her chambers. She couldn't stand to stay one more minute in this man's presence. He had the gift of make her blood boil and she already was nervous in his presence. She needed some calm. She needed the sea. She wanted to be with her parents in their castle in Rouen. When she left the large corridor, Guillaume turned to the other.

\- I am sorry for her behaviour. She usually is very joyful, but ever since we arrived here, she behaves like a fury.

\- You don't have to apologize. You did nothing wrong, nor did she. Maybe she just feel homesick, the count guessed.

\- Maybe... Tell me, count, now that I think about it, are you engaged to someone?

\- Haha, no. Why would you ask something like that?

\- Well, my mother entrusted me with the mission of finding a spouse to my sister. You see, she is old enough to be married and my mother wishes to build alliances to strenghten our duchy's position.

\- Why would you ask me? You can clearly see that you sister hates me. Besides, I am just a count, wouldn't it be better if she was to marry a prince?

\- My father does not want her or me to marry royals. He said he doesn't want to be separated from his children. He said that it would break his heart to see his daughter being taken away in a foreign land where she would have to learn a new language and where she would be lost.

\- Your father seems to really care about his children.

\- He does. He was longing to have children of his own for his entire life, so when we were born, he took it as the best gift his gods and my mother's god offered him.

The count looked down. He didn't know what to think. The young duke was offering him to marry his sister, a woman he desired. But he only desired her for one day. Was it enough to get married? Wouldn't he be tired of her eventually, just like every women he knew until then? What would happen when she would be older, if she carried his children, would he still desire her? All those interrogations streamed in the count's head making him feel dizzy. He had to think. He had to think of it alone.

\- I appreciate your proposition, dear duke, Guillaume finally said. But I will need time to think about it. I need to be sure.

\- I understand. Trust me, when it comes to marriage, you have to make the right choice, Guillaume said with melancholy.

On this words, the count left Guillaume in a empty hallway. His thoughts runned to Sprota, whose hand he asked in marriage a few days ago. He still didn't know if her father agreed and he was waiting for his letter so impatiently his heart was about to come out of his chest. He wished she was her with him. She was so kind, so sweet and yet so strong, always standing up for herself and her family. He remembered all the time he spent with her by the Seine, their multiple kisses, their long conversations and their nap, when it was hot enough to sleep in the grass. He loved her. Even more than his own life. And he wished to spend the rest of his life with her and have children with her. Why do marriages had to be so complicated, Guillaume asked himself.

* * *

After a few hours of digestion, Guillaume decided to watch the soldiers train as he used to do in Normannia. He stepped out of the hallway and entered the yard without being noticed by anyone. Luckily, he was wearing his most simple tunic. Which was practical in case he had to fight. He removed his ring and the other things showing that he was a noble of high rank and moved closer to the fighters. He had to admit it: they were skilled. But not as skilled as the men he trained in his father's yard, and even less than the old duke. He knew his father was a great warrior, if not the greatest, and he was proud he learnt from him. He taught him how to wield a sword when he was 7 and later he taught him how to use an axe with his long sword.

He couldn't help but notice how light the sword the soldiers used were. They were so different than those his men were used to use. In Normannia swords were longer, and thus heavier. He had no doubt such swords could kill a horse in a single blows. He grabbed the bigger one and began to make twirlings with it. It felt weird in his hand. It was too light and too short. Training with such a sword could be interesting, he thought.

He found someone to train with and their exchange begun. His opponent was attacking swiftly and hard. He used every part of the sword: from the blade, to the pommel and defended himself rather well. Guillaume studied his fighting style, learning how to counter attack such a great fighter. After a few minutes of training, the young duke finally attacked when he was only defending himself before. His blows were powerful. The light sword in his hands gave him more strenght than he could have guessed. The swords crashing into one another made such a sound that every men in the training yard turned to watch them. They all gathered in a circle to watch the most violent training they ever saw. Guillaume was fighting with the strenght of a bear and the courage of a lion. He struck harder and harder, almost breaking his sword's blade. The sound of their swords intensified, just as Guillaume's groans. At this stage, he wasn't human anymore. He was the most fearsome warrior in Frankia. Finally, he made his opponent's sword fall on the floor. He put the end of his sword on his opponent's heart. Many men gasped, afraid that he might kill the man in front of him. But to their surprise, he did not and took his opponent's sword instead, giving it back to him and lowering his own. Then, his opponent laughed, quickly followed by Guillaume.

\- It has been a while since I didn't train like this. My own birth if I can recall, the man joked.

\- And it has been a while since I had a worthy adversary. May I know your name sir?

\- My name is Hugues, duke of the Franks, the man stated.

\- Why, if I knew I was fighting such an important man, I would have weakened my blows, Guillaume teased.

\- Truly you have great rethoric skills, Hugues laughed.

\- I am sorry. This is one of the perks of having a sister, Guillaume joked blushing a little.

\- I can tell. My sisters can be very... You know what I mean, he shivered.

\- Yes. I know, Guillaume shivered back. And especially when it is that time of a month.

\- I had nightmares for years thanks to that specific period.

They both wiped the sweat off their faces, put their swords back to their place and enetred back in the palace. They walked at the same pace. As if it was natural for them to be together. As if they had a strong bond. Guillaume, when Hugues said he was the duke of the Franks, instantly became weary of him. After all, the duke was well known to put his family's interests before the crown. His loyalty was highly doubted, not to mention he was a parent of this Odo his mother often told him about as a bad example. Who knows, this Hugues was maybe plotting to overthrown his uncle? It was in his blood after all. Yet, despite what he heard of the man and his lack of trust, Guillaume still walked with him, at this strange rythme, in unison, joking with him, talking with him, like they were old friends. He didn't know what to think of that man.


	4. Chap4: Training

Geirlaug looked at her father and brother in the middle of a training session by the window. How she wished to go with them and to play with her brother. But she was stuck in bed with servants cleaning her bedshifts and a priest saying some kind of prayer. She hated it: this inactivity. For the moment she was so angry and her lower belly hurt so much she just wanted to scream at everyone in the room and tell them to get out so that she could have some privacy. Her long brown hair were tangled in a braid her father made before he went training. He really had a thing with hair. Geirlaug liked this about his father. Every morning he came to braid her hair and she appreciated those bonding times with her father. They were so rare lately. She had great respect for him. Mostly because he was loved by her mother and because he was a skilled warrior and a very competent duke.

Her mother entered the bedroom. Geirlaug turned her head and her mouth opened to a wide smile. Gisla smiled back to her beloved daughter. She took so much after her beloved husband. And yet, she recognized herself in the young lady. She approached the bed and sternly said to the servants:

\- Leave us.

All complied, for they did not wish to uspet the duchess. She was known to be fearful when she was angry and when people did not listen to her. When all left, she sat on her daughter's bed and held her arm.

\- How are you today Geirlaug?

\- I am fine. Though my belly hurt and I hate staying here without doing anything.

\- Do you want me to have maps and books brought here, Gisla asked petting her daughter's hair.

\- No. I already read all the books when I was sick last month. And I don't care about maps, I already know how to understand them. Father taught me, she smiled.

\- I'll have a word with him on that, Gisla said annoyed.

\- I want to know the duchy. To talk with its people, to see the landscape and to compare what I see of the duchy with its maps. I want to discover mother. I just want to get out of here, she whined.

\- Geirlaug, a lady does not whine, Gisla scolded her.

\- But I am in pain! Will it be like this all the time?! And being a lady is so boring, she pouted.

\- Women have to be strong. Like those shieldmaiden I often tell you about.

\- I know. I want to know more about them, mother. Please tell me more, Geirlaug begged with glowing eyes.

\- I think that your father is far better suited to teach that to you than myself, Gisla laughed. Well, I have to go, for now. Some important buisness is awaiting me in Rouen. I'll ask everyone to leave you alone for the day. Remember to drink and to sleep. I love you my child, Gisla smiled to her.

She stood up and kissed her daughter's forehead before she left. As soon as her mother was out of sight, Geirlaug grabbed some pants so that she didn't stain her clothes with her monthly blood and slipped a simple dress on. She carefully stared in the hallway to make sure no one would see her and she silently went to the train yard. Her father and brother were in the middle of it, and a few warriors were watching their exchange. She was always amazed to watch them train. It seemed her father wasn't holding his blows. As if he had an ennemy in front of him and not his own son.

\- Hit harder! Harder! Your feets! No, do not wield your shield like that. Pay attention to your adversary, Rollo yelled at Guillaume. For Tyr's sake, he grumbled in Norse.

Remarks to the yound duke answered by stronger blows and better moves. It was always like that between the two of them. Rollo yelled and Guillaume complied. He loved and admired his father and made everything possible to make his father proud of him. Of course, Rollo was proud of his son. But he had so much difficulties talking about his feelings he showed it when they fought. Guillaume dodged every single of his father's blows to the duke's great pride mixed with annoyance. Who was he, this little man, to teach him a fighting lesson? Yet, his son was 14, so, without any surprises, despite Rollo's old wounds and his physical inabilities, he threw his son's sword away with his own. He put the blade on Guillaume's heart and then stuck it into the ground. He then, smiled at him.

\- You fight well. I have no doubt that in a few years you will outdo me. Remember to always study your opponent's fighting style. And always finish your opponent off if you can. Make sure of that. Do not let any of your enemies escape. Will you remember that, Rollo said his hand on the young man's shoulder.

\- Yes father, Guillaume said tired. Thank you, he smiled.

Geirlaug, as her brother wiped the sweat off his face, runned toward her father and begged:

\- I want to fight too father! Train me too!

Rollo turned around and his lips widened to a smile. Then, he silently asked one of his northmen warriors to go and bring something. Then, when the warrior brought him what he asked for, two knives, Rollo bent to his daughter.

\- Your mother would never allow me to let you play with swords or axes. You know it is true. She would just kill me if she knew I let you do that, he laughed. Nevertheless, I can teach you how to wield a shield and to defend yourself with knives. Would you like to ?

\- Aren't knives like swords?

\- No. they are smaller and lighter. To fight good with it, you must be fast.

\- Won't mother be furious?

\- Your mother is no one to judge. She is pretty good with knives too, Rollo said with a mischievious smile. Did you know, he lowered his voice, that she brought one in our bedchambers and threathened me with it at our wedding night?

\- Really, Geirlaug's eyes widened. Mother is amazing.

\- Yes. She is extraordinary.

\- Teach me how to fight like mother, Geirlaug enthusiastically said.

Guillaume came in front of her.

\- You're a girl! How can you talk about fighting? Your place is by the fireplace reading books. Why don't you leave us men, together, Guillaume disdainfully said.

\- You... You... YOU LITLLE...

The next second she was on her brother hitting him with her fists, screaming. She hit so hard and so fast that her brother's nose bled and he had contusions everywhere on his face. Rollo's reflexes immediately went on full alert. He grabbed Geirlaug with his arms and lifted her off the ground. The young lady's arms were still flapping, trying to hit everything she could. She kicked the air, still screaming. Rollo took a few punches in the jaws and he had no doubt he wouldn't be able to hear well ever again. He would have to ask his wife a full exam of the wounds his daughter had inflicted him. He hoped Gisla would never know that, but their daughter was scarier than her when it was that time of the month. That must have been why Gisla wanted her locked away in her room. He looked at Guillaume: he was bleeding and shouting at his sister angrily, to which Geirlaug answered with louder shouts and screams. Rollo looked at the sky. Why did they had to have inherited their mother's hot temper and his? Was that a curse of the gods? All he knew was that he had enough. He let go of Geirlaug and roared to them in Norse:

\- SILENCE! Guillaume, go to the infirmary! Geirlaug, we need to talk!

His roar was scary enough for them to obey to their father and stop their quarrel instantly. Guillaume rushed to the infirmary while Geirlaug straightened and shaked from fear and anger.

\- Geirlaug, he bended to her taking a calmer voice. I know you want to fight. But you have to chose your fights. Do not fight to attack, but to defend yourself and your loved ones. That includes your brother. From now on, I do not want to see you punch your brother anymore. Now, grab this shield. It is time I teach you some things.

* * *

Geirlaug woke up suddenly in her bed in Paris. She was sweating heavily and her lower belly hurt so much she was doubled up in pain, gripping it. She stayed in bed for the whole day. It had been three days since her monthly bleeding started. And one week since her and her brother arrived in the royal palace. She was in pain and she was bored. A perfect mood to go training. Thus, as soon as her brother entered their bedchambers she jumped on him and asked with glowing eyes:

\- Let's go train!

She squeezed his shoulders so hard he grunted. He put her hands off him and shook his head.

\- No Geirlaug, You know you are...

\- Not sick! I am fine! I am used to it. And training always makes the pain go away. Please, please, please!

Guillaume rolled his eyes and turned around. He headed toward the door when his sister asked him:

\- What are you doing?

\- I thought you wanted to train, he replied with a mischievious smile.

Geirlaug's lips widened to a large, bright and joyful smile. She rushed to change clothes and braided her hair hastily. She quickly walked to her brother's side and both smiled, happy to fight again, like their father taught them.

They both rode their large horses to get out of the city. Guillaume was carrying two shields and several weapons on his and Geirlaug's large and long coat was covering her horse's back. They rode until they no longer saw the walls of Paris, where their father sealed his and their mother's destiny. Once they were far enough, they dismounted. Fortunately, Guillaume chose a spot without trees and on one bank of the Seine, far away from any human presence. He took the shields and weapons off of his horse while Geirlaug removed her coat, revealing a short and practical dress that allowed her to move freely and swiftly. Her brother handed her a shield which she grabbed with use. He took his long and heavy sword and took a fighting stance. Geirlaug brandished her shield and held tight on her knives.

\- En garde, her brother said. Fight!

On this last word, Gerilaug's muscles went to action and she pushed on her legs to push her brother and distabilize him. She was quick. But Guillaume was standing still, his feets stuck to the ground. She waved her shield to make him drop his but he was stronger that her. Then, his arm holding his sword came to hit Geirlaug and was interrupted by her shield. The impact made her move back a few steps. He continued to attack her with his sword, stronger and stronger. Geirlaug was used to it. It wasn't the first time she experienced such a fight. She kept waving her shield, diverting his blows one after the other. When he was tired enough, she ran to him her shield held to protect her chest. Guillaume waved his sword to the unprotected part of her body – her head – but Geirlaug moved her shield at the right time so that he couldn't change the direction of his sword and her head would be protected. He knees bent under the impact of the blow. She continued to move forward him, for she knew his swordsmanship skills would be useless in a close distance fight. When she was close enough, she dropped her shield and grabbed her knives in a way that would be more practical to fight. Guillaume smiled, impressed by her sister's intelligence. He knew it wasn't enough to be strong to win a fight. You had to study your opponent and to figure out the right way to overcome him. And you had to rely on your brain for that. Geirlaug might not be strong, but she compensated by her intelligence and clearsightedness. She waved her arms to hit him with her blades. Guillaume tried to dodge them, but his sword slowed him down and prevented him to defend himself. He threw it away and then, began their close-distance fight.

Many times, Guillaume almost got cut by Geirlaug's blades. But he stopped her hands with his forearms. Geirlaug punched, hit her brother's arms, annoyed that he dared to stop her moves. She punched quicker, harder. Guillaume had trouble to keep the rythme of her fighting skills. He dodged and tried to attack back at her, but she used her knives to stop him from doing so. They fought like that for what seemed days, punching, hitting, trying to reach their unprotected bodyparts. But soon enough, the fight ended with Guillaume taking one of her knives and pointing it on her heart and Geirlaug putting her other knife on her brother's throat. They looked at each other for a second, breathing heavily due to their intense training and then smiled with contentment. They dropped their weapons and laid on the grass. They rested for a moment until Guillaume went to clean his sweaty face with the Seine water.

\- You punched me so hard you made me bleed, Geirlaug joked straightening her back

\- Stop using that as an excuse! this is disgusting!

\- What ? My monthly blood, she asked with faked innocence.

\- Stop it, her brother protested.

\- Blood! Blood! Bood!

Geirlaug laughed. It was so funny to watch her brother being so uncomfortable with women's buisness. She decided to see how far she could push it.

\- Stop!

Guillaume's face was showing nothing but uncomfort and disgust. He made a face and tried to plugged his ears.

\- Here, take a look at my blood, Geirlaug laughed lifting her dress.

\- EWWWW gross! Stop it, you'll give me nightmares!

\- I wonder what Sprota's blood looks like, she wondered teasing her brother.

She knew he would react if she spoke of his precious Sprota. That was the rare thing that made him lose control. He was madly in love with her and considered her as a goddess of perfection. And that, Geirlaug knew it very well.

\- Stop that! Immediatly!

\- Maybe it is more beautiful, like water, she looked in the distance.

\- Don't talk about her like that!

\- It must be wonderful. Like a rain of ruby, she wondered mimicking the rain with her fingers.

\- STOP. THAT. NOW.

Geirlaug laughed. If she told it to Sprota, she bet they would both laugh of this. Geirlaug liked Sprota. They were quite close and often talked about the latest gossips and made fun of Guillaume, obviously. They often rode on the long beaches of Normannia. Sprota was kind, compassionate, always standing up for herself and caring. She also was curious and joyful. Truly, Geirlaug wouldn't want anyone else to marry her brother.

\- It's so fun to watch you being in love, she laughed. It is so rare to see you that passionate about something.

\- Really? I could return the slap, if you want. What's with you and count Guillaume, he asked teasingly.

Geirlaug laid back on the grass and groaned. Why did he had to bring him in the conversation? Maybe he knew she was a bit attracted to him, but why? Why did he had to remind her she was weak?

\- I don't know what you're insinuating, she replied angrily.

\- Really? Yet, I saw how you react in his presence. It is oddly out of character for you. Maybe you don't hate him as much as you would like everyone to believe.

\- Shut up!

\- Perhaps you love him, he continued ignoring her.

\- Shut your fucking mouth, she shouted in Norse. I will never love him, she cried.

\- Why are you so upset? There is nothing wrong with being attracted to someone.

\- Because I don't want to be weak, she shouted angrily.

\- Geirlaug, he calmy said, being attracted to someone or loving someone is not being weak. Actually, it's quite the opposite. Strength is to admit your feelings. If you keep repressing them, you'll destroy yourself. And I don't want that for you. Nor do father and mother. Besides, we came here to find a spouse for you. Don't you think the count would make a perfect candidate?

\- Maybe, she pouted. I may feel some... attraction to him. But that doesn't mean I trust him. And I can tell you that I do not love him. And he has such bad taste considering his friends! I mean, count Robert is basically the douchiest douche of the realm! He is so racist and condescendant to people he doesn't consider purely Frankish. He even said I was a bastard. Ha! If only mother knew, she would end him right away. He also seems to consider Normannia as a barbaric land. Barbaric! Can you believe that? Our duchy is the best administrated part of the kingdom! Thanks to father's knowledge of how to rule. Speaking of which, I wonder where he learnt that...

\- I suppose mother taught him a lot. Without mentionning uncle Ragnar and his wife, Aslaug. He might have gotten some tips of how to rule so that people don't come against you. Maybe he took Ragnar Lothbrok as an example to not follow...

\- Did he really hate him? Why didn't we get to meet him or our other cousins?

\- Because most of them hates christian folks. And because father won against king Ragnar to save Paris. This side of the family hate him because they thought he betrayed them. To tell the truth, father often told me about his story. He said his gods wanted him to marry mother and defend Paris against the northmen. He told me they made alliances.

\- Funny, mother told me that God wanted them to get married. That is was their fate. Do you think his gods and her worked together?

\- Maybe...

\- Do you believe in fate?

\- Yes...

They both laid back on the grass, looking at the sky, lost in the memories and stories of their father. They wished they were there to witness his exploits.


	5. Chap5: Desires

Geirlaug went to walk in the gardens and left Guillaume alone for the day. He was sitting on the chair his father used when he was staying at the palace, a long time ago, and was reading a heavy book. It contained every single money information of the past few years and Guillaume was astonished of how well the duchy was ruled. His father really did a great job at being a duke. Being here was strange. It was like traveling through time. A time where his father fought against Frankia. When his mother hated him. When he was adapting and creating Normannia. If the walls could speak, who knew what they'd tell? Maybe some battle stories, maybe political matters, or even love stories? Suddenly, Guillaume had a feeling of discomfort at the realization he might have been concieved here. On this exact same spot. He shivered. He should have asked his father or his mother about this when he had the occasion. Now he was trapped, knowing that any room of the palace might have witnessed his parents having sex. How was he supposed to sleep knowing that ?

Two men entered the room. They were rather old, but looked younger than Guillaume's father. One of them held a small child by his hand. Guillaume turned his head and smiled to them warmly.

\- Arnoul, Herbert. Baudoin, he smiled to the little boy. I am so happy to see you. Arnoul, your son looks just like you already. I have no doubt he'll be a great man someday.

Baudoin hid shyly behind his father.

\- Thank you, Guillaume, my friend, Arnoul replied politely. I am sure he'll grow to like you.

\- Perhaps... Did you want to see me for a particular reason?

\- Yes, duke Guillaume, Herbert of Vermandois said with faked worry. I am afraid you are under a bad influence, my boy.

\- What are you talking about, Guillaume asked intrigued.

\- I am talking about the duke of the Franks. We suppose he might want to get to you and stab you in the back one day, when you won't be on guard, Arnoul of Flanders stated.

\- Maybe he even wants to take control of Normannia, who knows? This is such a prosperous and rich land. We even suppose he wants to overthrone the king.

\- Really? Yet, he sounded like a good man to me. He seemed faithful to the crown...

\- A trick. To trap you my lord. Obviously it worked, Herbert said.

\- Well, this is unfortunate. If you say is true -and I have no doubt of that- then, something should be done about it. Thank you, my friends, for this information. I will do what is necessary.

\- Anything for a friend, Arnoul said.

Both men bowed to Guillaume before they disappeared by the same door they entered by, Baudoin still holding his father's cloak. When they were out of sight, Arnoul bowed to Herbert's ear:

\- How lucky we are that this kid is so naïve. This is perfect for our plans. Once the old northman is dead we would just have to kill the son and Normannia will be ours. What a shame to have granted such lands to a pagan, he spat.

\- Careful count! Someone could hear you, Herbert said with fear.

\- Do you even see anyone here? No one will know.

\- I am afraid his sister might know something, count Arnoul. I caught her holding one of our maps the other week. I don't trust her. She might have figured this out.

\- Did she gave you any reasons to believe that?

\- No. she was just as naïve as her brother.

\- Then, everything is fine. We can start up the first phase of our plan. I hope you chose a good killer. The old duke is known to not die so easily.

\- Do not worry. I selected the finest of the northmen I know. A berserker. Naturally, we will have him killed soon after. It was a good idea to discredit the duke of the Franks to the young duke, it is a perfect way to surround him and make sure that he would be alone.

\- Thank you. Now, we just have to wait.

Guillaume was still sitting on his chair in the middle of the room, lost in his thoughts. If truly, Hugues was a threat, then he should be acting with him like an opponent. For now, he just had to wait and see where things were going. He had to observe, learn and then, when he would know enough of his enemy, he would end him. That was his way. The way his mother taught him. When the right moment would come, he would strike his enemy so hard that he would end up dead.

* * *

Count Guillaume of Poitier and his friend, count Robert had the habit of walking in the gardens each morning. It was a way for them to talk about the latest gossips and political events. This morning's discussion focused on a quarell between two nobles who wanted to take some of Guillaume's lands. As they walked past a rosebush, Guillaume sighed. His desire for lady Geirlaug didn't go away as it used to be with women resisting him. Actually, it grew so much he spent each days seeking her and watching her. He had dreams of her at night that made him hard in the morning. He dreamt of her hair, of her eyes, of her skin. Her smell. Her pride. Despite his wish to see her as much as possible, she kept avoiding him. Apparently, she hated him. But the count knew she would eventually give up. They all gave up. Geirlaug... Just uttering her name made him sigh. If he had to confess one thing at mass, it would be that he purposely led his friend to the gardens. For he knew that the fairest lady of Frankia often came here to breathe the air of Paris. Each days was a new plan to see her.

\- Guillaume, are you listening to what I said, Robert inquired.

\- What? Yes. Yes Robert, Guillaume stuttered drove out of his thoughts. I was just... Thinking about a woman.

\- In the middle of a political discussion? Who on earth could drag you out of such an important matter?

Guillaume looked away, he didn't want his friend to know who was the object of his desire. He knew, Robert hated the Normans. He knew how he looked down at anyone that wasn't purely Frankish. He was worried Robert wouldn't want to be his friend anymore if he knew who he wooed. But his face betrayed his feelings and Robert stepped back, showing nothing but disgust.

\- Do not dare to tell me you are thinking about that bastard girl!

\- Yes! Yes I am count Robert, Guillaume exploded. I do desire her.

\- But why? How did this pagan bewitched you?

\- Didn't she already said that she was a devoted christian lady, he asked still angry.

\- Her father remains a pagan. Some people says that he sacrifice people to his devilish gods.

\- That still doesn't makes lady Geirlaug a pagan.

\- And that doesn't makes her a lady either.

\- She is the daughter of a duke and of the sister of our king. I think calling her a lady is perfectly appropriate.

\- What could possibly makes you think about her? What could she possibly have for herself?

\- Well, for starters, I think she is really bright. She knows three languages for all I know. THREE! Isn't this proof of her intelligence? She also has a smart mouth and seems to know about political matters. She is prouder than any women in Frankia and I think this is a good virtue. One must be proud of his culture and clearly she is. She is fascinating, he said looking at the sky.

\- She is a heathen!

\- A fine one, if you want my opinion.

\- This witch cast a spell on you! I see no other reasons why you admire her that much. You usually likes women more... civilized. More voluptuous, more docile. Those women you had sex with, back in Aquitaine, they were more suited for you than this little beast.

\- Those women were whores. You perfectly know they weren't suited for a man with such a high rank as myself. My father and mother wants me to marry someone, and I doubt they'd wish to have a woman of poor condition as a daughter-in-law. It is true I enjoyed those women's company. Greatly. But this lady Geirlaug has the gift of electrising my body and my mind. Something none of those girls could ever manage to do.

\- You could have any women in Frankia and you chose this girl!

\- I didn't choose anything! I don't want to marry her.

At least, not yet, he thought. He still desired her, but mere desire wasn't enough of a reason to marry someone.

\- Good. Then, forget about her. I will present you my sister. She may be young but I have no doubt she would make a perfect wife for you, one day. Of course, you will have to educate her on the intimate thing, but she will be a good Frankish wife.

Guillaume silently nodded. He knew he wouldn't convince his friend, no matter what he said. Yet, he still wished for him to see reasons and accept Geirlaug as a good Frankish lady. Besides, he did not wish to offense Robert, but lady Geirlaug was from far higher rank than his sister. Not to mention that she was the same age as him and she was, for all he knew, more beautiful. He wanted to posses her, that was a certitude but he also wanted to know more about her. To become her friend. That was why he kept following the beautiful Norman lady. He was so curious he asked Guillaume about their life in Normannia. Questions to which duke Guillaume answered vaguely. Of course, the count thought, he didn't live his sister's life. He had to ask her by himself. The count suspected it was a way for the duke to draw them closer to each other. Which wouldn't be a bad idea if Geirlaug didn't refuse to see him and to talk to him. After a few more steps, Robert said he had some urgent matters to take care of and left Guillaume, in the gardens, to his sweet thoughts.

* * *

He was still walking, smelling the flowers' fragrance, thinking about the young duchess. There was nothing shameful for him to think so often of a woman. Actually, it was very common in Aquitaine to celebrate love. Men sang odes to women's beauty in their own language dedicated solely to poetry. Men of the south were lovers. They saw women as treasure worth fighting for. Many quarrels started by a fight over a woman. To them, there was nothing sinful in enjoying sex. Not to men at least. Southern women were good christian despite their fire, so it was perfectly normal to noble women to avoid it as much as possible. At least to give good impression. Aquitaine was a country where men offered gifts and flowers to women, where they gave importance to seduction. And Guillaume was a perfect example of this mentality.

He stopped behind a bush when he heard the voice of a woman singing. This voice he could have recognize it even in the loudest confused noise. What she was singing, he couldn't understand it, on the other hand. It wasn't Latin, nor Frankish. He supposed it was a Norman song. It had something mysterious: the sounds were harsh and rough and the melody was unlike any song he ever heard – and having lived at a court where songs were sung every day, he heard a lot of melodies – it was almost a complain and almost a war song. Whatever she might be singing, it was beautiful. He silently stepped closer behind her where he could admire her graceful neck and her long hair. She smelled like flowers and her voice was clear and bewitching. Though the tongue she used gave her a huskier voice. He stepped closer but the noise he made made her turn to him. She instantly groaned and stood up.

\- No, please my lady. Stay. I was merely listening to your beautiful song, he held her back.

\- It is not a beautiful song. It is a sad song, she protested. It is a story about death and lost loves.

\- Are all Norman song that depressing, he smiled while sitting on the bench she was sitting on a few minutes ago.

\- Some are not, she angrily said after a few seconds of hesitation. Most of them tells the stories of warriors. Others are just poems, she stated sitting back on the bench.

\- Who taught you those poems?

\- I often heard some tales when I was visting vikings camps. I memorized them. The other poems I know, my father taught them to me, she smiled.

\- Your father, Guillaume asked stunned.

\- Yes, my father! What? Did you thought he wouldn't be interested in poems because he is a great warrior, she mocked him.

Guillaume blushed.

\- His favorite poem is a poem about death and war though. He confessed he always say it in battle to bring courage to himself.

\- May I hear it?

Geirlaug smiled to him. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and declaimed like her father taught her:

\- Up onto the overturned keel, clamber with a heart of steel, cold is the ocean spray, and your death is on its way. With maidens you've had your way, each must die someday.

\- What does it mean? Could you teach me some of your language?

\- It means I am going to end you.

She sounded so menacing and her eyes were so firery Guillaume started to be afraid of her. Who knew, she could really kill him. Maybe she had some northmen warriors hidden behind a bush. The count looked around him worried. Then, she burst out of laughter.

\- You are so funny to watch! I bet you thought you were surrounded by northmen. Even worse, by berserkers! Your face was absolutely priceless!

\- Just as your smile, he purred. Tell me: what is a berserker?

\- Berserkers are the strongest warriors. It is said they can become beasts in battle and that they possess a superhuman strength. They fight without any armors and without shields because they do not fear death. It is said that they wear nothing but furs. Also my father taught me that they eat magic mushrooms. My father is a berserker. Maybe the strongest of all. But he stopped being one when he married my mother for all I know.

\- A berserker that knows poetry. What a strange thing, he wondered.

\- Perhaps... My father is a complicated man, you know. He is very sensitive and he truly loves my mother. We often saw him doing nice and romantic things for her. They are really close. My father also knows how to sail, how to farm, how to cook and to heal himself when he is wounded which always make our mother mad because she would prefer him to stay still and be healed by the castle's healers. They argue over different thing really often and it end generally well. My brother and I suspect they have sex after every fight.

\- Really? How is Norman women's attitude toward sex?

\- Well, they enjoy it greatly. Especially with their husbands. In my father's culture it is a shame not being married. My father married rather late which made him happy considering that he was denied marrying the women he loved. He was really poor at the time and could not afford to give money for his wife. So he waited. I cannot imagine how much he suffered from this.

\- You seems to admire him very much...

\- Yes. After all my mother loves him.

\- I would like to know more on your culture, my lady. Yet, I noticed you avoided me a lot lately. Perhaps my presence offends you.

\- It does, dear count. I just don't see you as worthy of my attention. You have horrible taste in friends and I have no doubt that you consider women as whores for you to bang. Yet, I thank you for your interest in my culture, she politely said.

\- Did I tell you that I really love your tongue, he whispered in her ear.

His breath almost made her sigh. Why did it have to be so warm, she thought. But she didn't show it. Never show your feelings to your opponent, her father often told her.

\- And did I ever tell you that you are incredibly rude?

She turned her head to his. Her eyes didn't show any sign of hatred. They were glowing with mischief. Guillaume moved his head as to kiss her but was stopped by her hand on his chest. She was incredibly strong for a woman he thought. She pushed him off the bench and the count ended up in the grass.

\- A repayment. For the accusation your friend made on me two weeks ago, she calmly but angrily said. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to study some books.

Then, she left Guillaume in the gardens – again – dazzeled and stunned. He watched her go away with quick steps, her brown locks bouncing on her back and her two northern braids flying in the wind. What happened to him, he didn't know. He just felt the need to claim her lips. Something he had never felt before. He stood up, more lost than ever and stared to where she was two seconds ago. He began to feel something unusual in his chest. His heartbeat fastened and he sighed heavily.

\- Oh God, he said with realization.


	6. Chap6: Games

                                                           

This day, Geirlaug decided to go watch the soldiers' training session. She was curious of how they fought. It had been two days since the count's attempt to kiss her in the gardens and everytime she caught his eyes, he turned his head and blushed. Yet, he kept following her, thinking, perhaps, that she didn't notice. Geirlaug didn't know what to think. He really seemed to like her – if this man could really like a woman – and he made the effort of learning more about her. Maybe this man was worth of her attention, Geirlaug thought. Maybe she felt some inclination to him. Maybe her heart betrayed her. She liked him. Yes. But he didn't gave her any reasons to love and respect him. Should he be worthy of such respect, he would have to respect her for her to grant him that. When she remembered the kiss, she thought it would be a good game to tease him more. She knew he desired her. She saw it in his eyes. Obviously he didn't react well in being denied something - "Men ! They are so childish" - and her resistance did nothing but increase his desire and fascination for her. So, she decided to make him pay for what she was feeling and to torture him a little bit. Not a painful torture. No. the sweetest form of torture that ever existed. She giggled. In one month, he would be laying on the ground kissing her feets.

Lately, she wore more revealing dresses, she took care of every part of her body and put perfume on her skin and in her hair – things she never did before – wore more delicate jewels and braided her hair in a more refined way, like her father taught her to. She watched her manners and in the count's presence, she often showed her wrists and made delicate gesture. She couldn't help but play with the poor man's heart. She had no doubt he would soon die of a heart attack. So this day, in case she crossed his path, she wore a dark blue long sleeved dress adorned with golden threads. Its collar was V-shaped and put the emphasis on her breasts. On her dress, she wore a golden belt and a Norman necklace adorned her neck. It was a gift of their father for both her brother and herself. It was a hammer shaped piece of bronze with a cross carved on it.

When she arrived at the training yard, all eyes went on her. It was unusual for a lady of such a high rank to come here and watch the training session. Geirlaug knew some nobles came here to learn and to teach how to fight. She recognized some of them, but didn't gave them more attention. She sat on a bench and watched as the men went back to their activities.

They weren't good. Their swords were lighter. She could tell by the way they waved them in the air. Of course, it was normal for the students to fail and to make mistakes, but the nobles who were training wouldn't stand one minute against a viking. Normans and vikings had a fighting style that was made to kill fast and brutally. The Frankish style, on the other hand was more elegant and less brutal despite their swords known to be the best across Europe. What happened to the soldiers her father trained, she wondered. Did they forget what he taught them? Geirlaug remembered her training sessions with her father. Even with her knives she could beat them in ten minutes. Yet, she had to admit, they compensated with speed. But it wasn't enough to stop two axes and a large and muscular berserker. If they wanted to protect the realm and their fiefdoms, they had to do it better.

What a shame she was just a woman. If she was a man, she would have gladly train and teach them some tricks. Her eyes caught a man, at the other side of the yard. She recognized his dark hair and his straight and round nose. She watched him in action. He wasn't bad at fighting, but he was far from her brother's level. He had a lot to learn, she thought watching him. He had troubles keeping his stance steady and his attacks weren't powerful, nor well aimed. He didn't took advantage of his opponent's weaknesses and he used his shield too often to counter attack quickly. It was painful for Geirlaug to watch. She was ashamed for him.

\- The price to pay for wooing too many women, she muttered.

After a few more pityful passes that tore Geirlaug a yawn, Guillaume and his opponent dropped their swords and shields. The count wiped the sweat off of his face and caught Geirlaug's eyes. He smiled and walked toward her. She straighened her back as he sat beside her on the bench.

\- I hope you appreciate the show, your grace.

\- I do not. You fight like my moth... Nevermind, even my mother fights better than you. How come you are not ashamed by your fighting skills?

\- Really?

\- Yes. Don't worry, I'll ask my brother to give you lessons. For Christ sake, I never witnessed such a awkward scene.

Guillaume stayed silent. He chuckled and then laughed.

\- What is there to laugh about?

\- Nothing. It's just that you are suprising.

\- How am I so surprising, she purred highlighting the "s".

\- You know so much about fighting and techniques. I suppose you learnt that by watching your brother and father train.

\- I did. Just as I learnt it by watching my father's berserkers and other viking warriors train and fight when I visited their camps. When you fight, she stared at him, fight to kill. Do not show any mercy, she stated.

\- Viking camps? I thought your father prevented them from raiding Frankia.

\- Oh, he does. They just stay here while they raid England. You see, they don't want their camp attacked while they are fighting the Saxons. So they come in Normannia, under the duke's protection and in exchange of that favor, they promise to not do any harm on Frankish people. That's how it works. We Normans are close to our roots, but we are not forgetting that we also are Frankish by adoption. We just keep the best of both cultures.

\- Are Norman all Christians?

\- No. A lot of them still pray Thor, Tyr or Freyr.

\- Are those Norse gods?

\- Yes. For instance, the necklace I am wearing represent Thor, the god of thunder. It is a gift from my father to me and my brother. He made a cross carved on it. To always remember who we are, he said.

While she showed it to the count, her hand lingered on her skin, caressing the exact place where her breasts begun. She touched it so sensually the count gulped. She smiled. She loved how his face was. She saw his eyes burning with desire following her hand and staring intensly to every part of her anatomy.

\- What are you looking at?

\- I am looking at the most beautiful woman who ever walked the earth, he smiled to her.

\- And who might that be?

\- You, my lady, he said grabbing her hand to kiss it.

Geirlaug quickly moved her hand.

\- Well, Guillaume said after an awkward silence, how about you teach me more about your language, he purred. Did your father taught you it?

\- No. The elves did.

For a moment, Guillaume was puzzled.

\- I am kidding! Of course my father taught us, she hissed. The children of the Duke of Normannia should always know the language of their ancestors, he often told us. How could they pretend to be Normans otherwise?

\- Are Norman all proud of their origins?

\- Yes they are. They are proud of both origins. Why shouldn't they be?

\- How are women treated in Normannia?

\- My father has always been obsessed with equality and in his culture women are men's equals. They can rule and fight as well as the men. So my father tried to apply that to women in Normannia. He usually judge a love affair by hearing both versions, then, with the help of my mother – who rules when he is at war – he decides of the right thing to do.

\- He is a fair man then... Like Salomon in the Bible?

\- I suppose so. I have to admit that in terms of punishment he is very harsh. I witnessed some executions no one should ever been able to see. Yet, my mother still loves him.

\- How is she? Your mother?

\- She is kind, she smiled. Beautiful, strong and clever. On their wedding night she threatened my father with a dagger and then she never stopped humiliating him. Until she fell in love with him when she realized he was worthy of her. She took great care of me and my brother. She is so loving and dedicated when it comes to our family. I have no doubt she would kill anyone who tries to hurt us or our father. She would decapitate him with a dagger and then put his head on a spike and show it to the whole realm. She is aware of any politicale moves. She is a great political strategist and this is partly thanks to her that the duchy is so well administrated. She is the best mother a girl could ask for.

\- I would love to meet her one day. She seems to be amazing.

Maybe I will meet her when we will get married, he thought. But he immediately erased that from his mind. He only began to love her. That still wasn't enough to marry someone. And he highly doubted she wanted to marry him. She was beautiful. And all in her, from her manners to her dress attracted him to her. Her hair smelled as good as spring and her dress reminded him of the night. Her hair were tangled in a loose braid. He looked at her neck, her lips, her nose and finally her eyes. Their clear green shade burnt with mischief. As if she had a secret. As if she was preparing something. It was said that one could see someone's soul in their eyes. And the young lady's eyes showed nothing but strenght, intelligence and delicacy. Surely her soul was just as beautiful.

He moved closer to her. Trying to catch a fragrance, to remember her presence. His mouth was close to her ear, so close she could feel his warm breath against her cold skin. Was he trying to kiss her? Again? Clearly this man needed a lesson. A lesson only her little game could give. She bowed her head to his ear. So close her lips could touch his skin, making him sigh.

\- You stink, count, she whispered.

Guillaume moved closer trying to hold her back, but she stood up and left with a last stare at the young man. Se smiled mischieviously and disappeared in the dark hallways of the palace. So far, her plan worked and she wasn't ashamed to say that she loved it.

Guillaume laid back on the bench staring at the sky. He grunted. He missed an occasion to be her friend again. What a pathetic man he made. She also seemed to think he was weak and couldn't fight properly. The count felt insulted in his manhood. Was it the reason she didn't want him? Should he train day and night, he would show her how worthy he could be of her. Maybe then, she would consider being his friend. With those hopes, he went to wash and change clothes. He had something to ask his homonym.

* * *

Geirlaug was late for dinner. She was so caught in her book she forgot it was time to eat. Her fast and light step echoed against the walls. When she entered, they were already eating. Without being noticed by anyone she sat by her brother's side. She was really good at moving unnoticed. Only her brother saw her when she entered the room.

\- Where have you been, he scolded her. I looked everywhere for you!

\- I was reading near the Seine, she muttered.

\- Count Guillaume talked to me earlier. He asked for me to give him lessons. Geirlaug, what did you do?

\- He asked you to... I can't believe it! Did he... Really?

\- Yes he did. What did you say to him? Don't you care anymore for diplomacy?

\- I don't know, maybe he... Oh. I get it now. I watched him train and – oh you should have seen it, it was pathetic – he asked me if I liked what I saw and I couldn't help but say he fought very badly. I swear. I though he was joking so I answered with the same tone.

\- Geirlaug, a Frankish lady do not act like this. You are going to make us lose a potential ally.

\- How? Look at the way he stares at me! Clearly he wants to please me, otherwise he wouldn't want to learn more about us, Normans. He...

She stopped. She felt a pair of eyes on her. This feeling was different than when the count stared at her. Those eyes were those of a predator on a prey. There was nothing but lust in those eyes. She was incredibly uncomfortable. She felt dirty and stinky. Whoever might look at her this instant, he would regret it.

After a few more meals, they finished their dinner and as the two siblings went to come back to their room, Guillaume was held back by someone. He turned to the person who did it and smiled.

\- Count Herbert. What a pleasant surprise. Did you enjoy the feast?

\- I did dear duke. Though those pies will be long to digest I suppose. I can see that you are in pleasant company tonight. Lady Geirlaug, I presume, he asked kissing her hand.

\- Yes, my lord. Your face seems familiar to me. Did we met before, she asked with a faked idiot smile.

\- Ah, perhaps you don't remember. It was more than a week ago. You came into my work room and you were looking at some parchment.

\- Really? Did I ever apologized for that? Because now, I feel I have to. How indelicate of me to have searched in your stuff. I beg you my lord, please forgive me.

\- You are all forgiven my lady. With eyes like yours, who could ever resent you?

Geirlaug smiled nicely and bowed to the man. Guillaume watched their exchange puzzled. This attitude was unlike everything he knew about her sister. What was this idiot smile she bore on her face? What happened to her deep voice? Now she sounded like a woman of poor condition and intelligence. He glanced to her with interrogative eyes. Glance to which she answered by a "don't ask questions now" kind of look. She continued to smile stupidly until count Herbert was rejoined by his friend, count Arnoul who asked to see her brother in private. Geirlaug bowed to them and took her leave.

As she walked in the dark hallways, her mind wandered. She knew Herbert was up to no good considering the maps she found in his room. She knew from some ladies at court that those men were really close friends and thus, she had no doubt they were working together. She tried to figure out their plan. If what she saw on the maps was true, then it only meant one thing: they tried to invade and conquer Normannia. But how? To have a claim over the duchy they would have to hire someone to kill her father as well as her brother. And maybe herself and her mother. She shivered. If anything happened to her mother, she didn't know if she could take it. She knew the old duke could not be killed by Frankish people. So naturally, they would have to hire a foreigner to do that. She supposed it would be a northman. A berserker even. To make sure he would be dead. Then, they would kill her politically isolated brother and perhaps marry her to one of their sons to legitimate their position. She had a move of disgust. Again, she was just a tool for power. What a pain! If what she suspected was true, then, the counts would have a total control over the north and could overthrone the king. She couldn't let that happen. She owed it to her mother as well as her father. All her life, her mother fought for the crown and Geirlaug decided to follow her example.

She had to do something against those men manipulating her brother, but what? What credits could the king give to her words? She was a woman and Arnoul and Herbert were respected nobles. She had no chance against them. No. She had to act on the inside to destroy them without being caught. She could seek advice in her mother, but she doubted that with a killer menacing her and her husband, she would have the time to act. Geirlaug was on her own.

First, she decided to warn her parents about a potential threat against them. Next she would have to figure out a plan to discredit them in her brother's eyes. And finally, she would have to find allies in case Arnoul and Herbert's armies marched on Normannia. She hoped her father would remain wise and not give in to his recent anger crisis. She hoped her mother would keep him calm for it was her who tamed the bear.

When she was in her room, she asked for ink and paper and wrote in a mixed norse and frankish tongue:

_Father. I wrote to warn you about a potential threat against you. Some noblemen hired a berserker to kill you and your son and take over Normannia. I also suspect them to plan to invade our lands. I beg you father to stay still and calm. I beg you to take care of yourself and of my beloved mother. May God be with you, your dutiful daughter, Geirlaug._

She asked one of the men who followed them in Paris to take the letter.

\- Ride fast. This has to reach my father as soon as possible.

\- Yes my lady, he complied.

The knight bowed, then left. Geirlaug stared at the fireplace. There was too many things going on in her head and she doubted she would sleep well the next few weeks.


	7. Chap7: Sprota

                                                                

The Duke of Normannia's stables were known for their good horses. They were strong and large, muscular and docile. They ran faster than most of Frankish horses and their coat was soft and well brushed. The Normans used them to war as well as to farm. Geirlaug had her first horse at the age of eight. It was a good one. And to her joy, he was really fast. She had it when it was still a colt and it never left her. She recalled that moment when her father came to find her and tell her that he had a gift for her. She remembered how happy she was. For her, it was the first step toward her freedom.

It was a good day to ride, she thought. The sky was grey, the clouds were low and the wind entangled her hair her father braided the same morning. She wore a practical dress made of linen and lined with fur, a large cloak on her shoulders. She hastened her path to the stables. When she entered the great hall to go outside, her parents held her back. Obvioulsy, they were having an intimate conversation, because her father had his hand in her hair and his arm was holding her waist and her mother blushed and had both of her hands in her father's hair. Geirlaug smiled. If they wanted to be more discrete in front their children, they would have to try harder.

\- Geirlaug, her mother said quite embarassed, where are you going?

\- I am going to take Sleipnir for a ride. And I too need to go out sometimes. I think we will push it to the sea. The waves will be huge. Maybe we will get to see some viking ships.

Geirlaug had her hand on the door when her father held her back.

\- Geirlaug, the sky is low and the wind is strong enough to make you fall off Sleipnir, as big as he his. I suggest you do not go out. I cannot risk to lose my only daughter today. You might be sixteen, but you will still stay my little girl.

\- But father! I am bored. What else can I do here?

\- Study, her mother said.

\- I am tired of studying! I am tired of being a lady! I don't want to be a woman anymore. Can't you see I want to be free? Even the women in your lands are more free than I! I want to fight! I want to ride!I want to be a man's equal!

\- Geirlaug, what you ask for is impossible, Gisla said sadly. You know that in Frankia women have a different position. Your father's lands are the only one where it is different. Things are done differently, in Frankia and you must accept it.

\- I am not married yet, mother. I am still not a lady. I want to go ride today. Please. You know how much I like the heavy sky and the wind in my hair.

\- I know Geirlaug, but this is dangerous and your mother and I care for you. We love you and don't want you in danger, her father said while approaching her.

\- I've seen worse, she fiercely said. And I can take it. I am your daughter don't forget that.

\- As if I could, Rollo grinned. You really took from your mother on the other hand. She can be so stubborn sometimes, he winked.

\- How dare you, husband?

Gisla walked toward them pretending to be angry at Rollo when she was amused by how he spoke of her. She stood next to Geirlaug, her hand on her daughter's shoulders.

\- You are the most stubborn of us. This is how he won me over, she said to Geirlaug.

\- That still doesn't solve my problem. I want to go out, she pouted.

\- Fine, Rollo sighed. But you will not go alone. Your brother is coming with you.

\- What? Noooooo! Why? He is such a pain!

\- No objections! He will go with you. Period, Gisla sternly said.

\- Fine, but don't expect me to follow him everywhere!

Gisla shot her a dark look and Rollo sighed heavily. Why did he have to be surrounded by stubborn and firey women. Of course he had no doubt he transmitted some of his stubborness and wild attitude to his daughter. She would have been a great shieldmaiden if she had been Norse, he had no doubt of that. Maybe a greater warrior than Lagertha. With his training and her mother's mentality, she would have won any battle that would have come to her. But unfortunately – or fortunately – she was born in Frankia and therefore, even if she was more free than other Frankish women, she had to marry, one day for political advantages, a noble and leave to live with him in his lands. That saddened the duke. He didn't want any of his children away from him. All he hoped for was to live long enough to see his daughter and his son happily married just as he was. He turned his face to Gisla and she read his eyes. She walked to him and put her hands on his face while his hands touched hers. She softly kissed him and then turned back to their daughter.

\- Go now. I will ask Guillaume to go with you.

\- Thank you mother, Geirlaug smiled hugging Gisla.

When Geirlaug closed the door behind her. Gisla turned back to Rollo. Never had he been so melancholic. Gisla knew, without even ask him, that he was thinking of the day their daughter would be gone. She stroked his hair.

\- She will be fine, she comforted him. She is strong, and clever. She will be fine.

\- I know. She is sixteen. She can marry. But I am not ready yet, he said his voice full of sorrow.

\- I am her mother. I will never be ready. But this day will come soon enough, my love. We must be prepared to it.

\- I know, he whispered. At least, you will always be there right?

\- Until death do us part, Rollo. Like we vowed.

\- I know I will see you in the afterlife. May it be in your Heaven, or in Vanaheim. I do not wish to be separated from you. Ever.

\- I do not wish it either. I love you.

\- I love you more, he teased her.

Rollo kissed Gisla's hand still surprised she did not react when he talked about Vanaheim. This was a unique occasion. He shot her begging and hungry eyes to which she answered by heavy breathing and a nodd. What a chance Geirlaug left, otherwise, she would have seen her parents giggling like childs while running to their chambers.

* * *

Geirlaug was thrilled with happiness. She ran to Sleipnir, her large horse, and asked the stableboy to ready it. She couldn't believe her luck. She was going to ride freely – well, under her brother's supervision, but she knew he couldn't made her obey him – in the field and forests to the sea. The chances of seeing a viking ship were high and she wanted to witness such a scene. She heard tales of peasants who witnessed them coming out of the fog, gliding on the heavy waves of the sea. Their terror when they spoke of it, that was what she wanted to feel. She desperately wanted to feel alive.

\- Her brother came, running, after a few minutes. He asked the stableboy to ready his horse, Svadilfari. Geirlaug, already mounted on hers scolded him.

\- You're late.

\- Oh excuse me, your highness, he mocked her, but I only received mother's orders now. I saw her running with father to their room.

\- Ew! Please, I don't want to hear that.

\- Maybe we will have a new sibling. They hardly kept their hands off of each other, he continued smiling.

\- LALALALALA, I can't hear you, she shouted her hands on her ears.

Guillaume laughed. It was so good to annoy his sister. Yet, his words turned against him when he imagined his parents doing the thing. He shivered, horrified by such a mental image. Geirlaug noticed and laughed.

\- You should see your face, it seems like you just ate a rotten apple. Too bad your plan turned against you!

\- Yeah, too bad indeed, he stared at the void. If you don't mind, I will take a bath in the sea when we will be there.

\- Wait, you are willing to go to the sea?

\- Well, yes, he nodded. I know you like being there and so do I. So why not treat ourselves while father and mother do... Nevermind, I don't want to think about it. So, do you want to go north or south?

\- North. We will have higher chances to see a viking ship there.

\- Fine. Let's go. Open the gates, he shouted to the men guarding the door.

Both spurred on their horses and got out of the castle's walls. Their horses ran fast and their hooves made great noise, echoing against the houses of Rouen. Soon, they were in the forest. With such a low and grey sky, the woods were dark and it was hard to know where to go. But the two riders knew how to find out their bearing. They followed the scent of iode and slowed their horses down so that they could know the topology of the field. There was enough light for them to notice the moss on the trees and thus, know where north was. They rode in the dark for what seemed ages. All they could hear was the wind in the leaves, the sound of their horses's steps on the moss, the wind their speed produced and some wolves's howls. These sounds relaxed them. Away from any human presence, they felt better. Their mother often called them her little beasts, her wolves cubs. Maybe they were born wild, maybe they inherited of their father's attitude. Many would see that as a curse, or as something bad. But for them, it was a blessing. They were closer to God's creation than anyone ever was. They respected wild animals and they always made a prayer when they hunted. Gisla was proud of them for that. They didn't like the presence of other human beings. They only liked a few of them. They were like stray wolves. Like wolves, they could do anything for family, for their kind. No one was allowed to harm them.

They saw some light in front of them and the sound of crashing waves added to what they were hearing already. They slowed their pace and stopped on top of a white cliff. The scene was spectacular. The cliffs were high and a large and high spike was coming out of the sea as if it was resisting firecely to the strong waves. The sea was heavy. The waves were high and violent. Yet, it relaxed the two siblings. They dismounted and sat on the grass, leaving their horse to eat. They stared at the sea for a moment until Guillaume started to talk.

\- I could stay here forever.

\- As do I, but I will have to leave one day or the other. I cannot believe how unfair that is, she started crying.

\- Guillaume took his sister in his arms. He didn't like to see her crying.

\- Shhhhh, don't cry, he whispered. You are going to be fine. Maybe what you will find will be better than what you hoped for.

\- I want to have a life as happy as mother's. I want to rule and be a man's equal. But I know, only a few of men will grant me that.

\- I know... You will leave a great legacy someday.

\- You too, she smiled at him. I want you to be happy too.

\- Thank you.

Guillaume kissed her forehead and both kept their embrace looking at the sea silently. They enjoyed this moment while it lasted. Because they knew how precious these minutes were. Without even speaking, they perfectly understood each other. That was the way it worked between them.

* * *

Sleipnir followed her in Paris so that was with joy that she went to ride, this morning. She had to go out of the palace and free her mind from the scheme against her family. It had been three days since she had sent her letter to her father. She wondered if he was alright, if he didn't kill anyone out of anger. Her thought went to her mother. She hoped she was safe, that she was protecting her father from himself.

The sky was clear and blue, the wind was soft and the air was warm. In consequences, she was wearing a light cream dress embroidered with red threads, with narrow sleeves. She didn't wear any jewels and her hair was tangled into a long braid. She didn't wear any coat on her shoulders, being used to cold temperatures. The wind on her skin gave her a feeling of rebirth. She smiled and giggled. For the first time she was in Paris, she was free from all thoughts. She felt like she was home. But at home, there was the sea, here, there was only the Seine. She didn't care. A ride was enough for her to be relaxed. She felt her horse's powerful muscles in action against her legs. She loved that feeling of habit. He was galloping fast. Sleipnir truly was the best horse of Normannia. Her horse was her only friend in Paris. Often, she came to talk to him when she felt down. Which happened more than it should be. Especially those last few days, with the plot against Normannia and the stress that came with it.

She rode so far, she couldn't see the walls of Paris anymore. She slowed her horse down and let Sleipnir walk calmly in the forest. On her way she saw farmhouses and several places for Sleipnir to eat. If he wasn't well fed in Paris, she could have brought him here. Suddenly, a distant noise caught her attention. It was definitely hooves on the grass. By the noise it made, she deduced those were large horses, very muscular. It closened to her. Sleipnir began to move about but she kept him steady. After a few more minutes, three riders came in front of her. Her mouth widened to a big smile. She ran to the woman riding in the middle.

\- Sprota! Sprota, I can't believe you're here! What a surprise.

\- A pleasant one, I hope, Sprota smiled gently.

\- Always. If I wasn't mounted on Sleipnir I could hug you!

\- And I believe you, Sprota laughed.

\- Let me guide you to Paris. Nothing makes the trip shorter than talking.

Both spurred on their norman horses, Sprota couldn't wait to see Guillaume. She was wearing a short, green and practical dress with narrow sleeves which ends was covered with leather. She had a belt where a viking dagger was hunged. She wore nothing in her blonde hair but flowers and a few piece of branches tangled here by the ride she and her two northmen guards took from Normannia. She was beautiful. Geirlaug was thrilled. What a good surprise for her brother!

\- Why did you come here, Geirlaug asked curious.

\- Well, for starters, I owe your brother an answer on an intimate matter. And I was tired of writing to him and not hearing his voice. To tell you the truth, we will get married in a few months. Guillaume told me that he doesn't want to marry before you. And he suppose you'll be bethrothed soon. He wrote about a certain... count Guillaume of Poitiers.

\- That cunt, she mumbled in Norse. Count Guillaume and I are nowhere near to get engaged. He showed me some affection, as did I. But I do not love him. My brother should stop writing you nonsense about me. I guess... I guess I don't want to love someone. I am sorry Sprota, for my selfishness. I know my attitude will delay your wedding with my brother. But I just can't love a man who doesn't respect me.

\- Give him time... I am sure this man will be worthy of your affection. And I am sure your fear will pass.

\- You are so kind, Sprota, Geirlaug smiled to her. I am glad my stupid brother loves you.

\- So am I, she laughed. Now. Let's begin the real talk.

\- Which is?

\- Your father received you letter. He is more careful than ever, and especially with your mother. You should see them. He is so protective she yells at him at least twice a day.

Geirlaug laughed. Just picturing her father afraid of her mother yelling warmed he heart. She was glad Sprota came.

\- He is training more and more soldiers. He ordered spies to investigate on the two count's positions and if found, he asked vikings to raid against them. That way it would prevent the counties of Vermandois and Flanders to seek revenge against Normannia. I suspect this is a move of your mother. He asked me to come to you as a messenger to tell you to stay safe and protect your brother. He said he's got it under control.

Geirlaug stayed silent for a moment. She was glad her parents were fine, but she felt insulted in her pride. Stay safe? Like her mother on the walls of Paris during the first siege? - she loved that story – how was she supposed to stay put when all her senses told her to fight? Her father might be really afraid if he asked her to stay safe. It only proved that she was right. The counts were more dangerous than they sounded. She had to do something to destroy them. Fortunately, Sprota was here and she had good contacts amongs the northmen.

\- Something needs to be done. Those men will not stop unless we destroy them, Geirlaug stated.

\- What do you suggest? Shall we kill them?

\- No. they are too important, to my regret. We have to make them unable to conceive a scheme for at least ten or twenty years. Until you and Guillaume are married and have a son. My brother has to inherit our father's duchy. He has to perpetuate his legacy and establish a dynasty. Normannia has to stay stable. Distability is the key to chaos and coups.

\- What will you do then?

\- What needs to be done. I will find allies. Powerful allies to make their choices harder to make because of politics.

\- Does that include marriage?

\- Yes. If I have to. But in last resort.

\- I will help you. You are my friend and Guillaume will be my husband. They will not destroy what is ours.

\- And if they do, they will face our wrath.

Both smiled to each other, riding toward Paris under a radiant sun.


	8. Chap8: Some intimacy

                                                                 

Geirlaug knew her brother would be in his private room at this hour. She entered the room and walked to him with a mischievious smile. Guillaume raised his head from the book he was reading to look at her and asked puzzled:

\- Why are you smiling?

\- Nothing, she lied.

\- I do not trust you. What are you hiding? Did you kill count Guillaume?

\- No. It is a better surprise.

Guillaume's face began to show worries. Geirlaug lost patience, tired of her stupid little game and shouted in Norse to a person outside the room.

\- Come in!

\- Finally!

As soon as Sprota made her appearance, Guillaume rose from his desk in awe. He walked toward her like someone seeing the most wonderful thing on earth. Sprota smiled and shook her head. This idiot. She loved him. How he reacted when she was in the same room as him. How good was the time they spent together. She slowly walked to her soon-to-be husband and both embraced each other. Guillaume kissed every part of her face, smelling her hair while doing so. He missed her so much. Every seconds away from her tore his heart in two.

\- I missed you, he whispered.

\- I know, I missed you too, Sprota answered with the same tone.

Geirlaug smiled to herself. Seeing her brother that happy filled her heart with joy. She quietly walked outside the room and closed the door, leaving the two lovebirds to teir tender activities. She walked in the corridors to the gardens, still smiling and clapping her hands with excitement. She was impatient to see them married and with child. She was sure she was going to be the best aunt that ever walked the earth. She was so joyful she forgot to watch in front of her and busted into someone – again - . She immediately straightened herself and apologized.

\- I am sorry my lord! I am so sorry! Please forgive me.

\- This is fine, your grace. I do not blame you, for you seemed so happy.

\- Duke Hugues, Geirlaug exclaimed. What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?

\- I was going to pay a visit to your brother.

\- My brother is... busy for the moment, she mischieviously said. I would advise you to see him later. I can predict that he will be in a good mood when you'll see him.

\- Really? Why would he be in a better mood than he is now?

\- Because his betrothed just arrived in the palace and I left them alone in Guillaume's private room.

\- Fine then. May I walk with you for a moment?

\- Yes. I suppose some minutes of good conversation would be pleasant, she smiled to the duke.

\- I would like you to give a message to your brother if you please.

\- What is that?

\- I would like to advise him to not trust the counts Herbert and Arnoul. I suspect they might want to do some harm to him. I heard words that they want to... Sorry, I shouldn't talk to you about that.

\- Speak freely. Who knows, maybe it might interest me as well.

\- I heard words that they want to kill your father and take control of his duchy. I suspect they want to kill your brother, he continued.

\- That way they would have a total control over the north and they'd be so powerful they could attempt a coup, she finished.

\- Why, I didn't know you were such a political strategist your grace, the duke said impressed.

\- I was raised by princess Gisla of Frankia, who ruled in the shadow of her father, don't you forget it. She taught me well, she said looking in front of her head held high. I thank you for your concern over my brother.

\- This is natural. I only want Frankia stable for at least twenty years. The two recent coups really hit the politics and the people hard. I do not want that anymore.

\- Nor do I. I am glad my brother can find in you a good friend. And if not a friend, a powerful ally. Yet, I beg you to not tell him anything of that. At least, not yet. First, I have to make sure the counts are unable to plot for at least ten years.

\- You surprise me, your grace. I didn't know you were such a great political strategist. But again, knowing who your mother is, I should have figured out earlier.

\- Thank you, my lord, for your nice words. I am glad I can trust you. How is your son, by the way?

\- Hugues is fine. My wife is taking care of him in our castle outside Paris. See, I want him as far away of politics as he can be. At least, for now.

\- I am sure he will have a bright future with such a father.

\- Thank you your grace. I wish the same for you and your children, whoever your husband might be in the future.

Geirlaug looked down. Again, she was spoken of marriage. Apparently, that was the only way forward for her. She considered it on a different angle: sure, she wanted a love marriage. But she also knew that such a thing could bring her power and means to counter attack any harm that came to Normannia. Her father told her that his gods made alliances and that his and God made one so that he could marry her mother and thus, protect Frankia against invaders. Maybe a marriage would be for the best regarding her interests. She thought of count Guillaume. He was a powerful man. He ruled a large part of Frankia, as large as the counties of Flanders and Vermandois and the duchy of Normannia put together. And he was also soon to become a duke. Adding to this the fact that she felt some inclination to him, it was the better offer she could ever have. But he had to ask to marry her first. It was the way things worked. He had to ask her brother, and she heard no words on him. Nevertheless she was glad Sprota came here. She would be of a great help.

\- My brother has an idea of who I might marry in the future. I suppose it is the better offer I could ever have.

\- I am curious to know who that man might be.

\- Lady Geirlaug, a voice asked behind her.

Geirlaug turned to find count Guillaume walking to her with a happy grin. She felt her heart race in her chest, she blused and realized she wasn't even well dressed. She just came back from her ride and she had some leaves entangled in her hair. The only thing that could make her desirable was the shape of her dress which emphasized her waist and her breasts. How was she going to play her game like that?

\- Count Guillaume, she nodded to him.

\- If you'll excuse me, duke Hugues, I will take her from here, Guillaume politely said.

Hugues looked at Geirlaug then bowed to her.

\- Our conversation has been very useful. Thank you your grace.

Geirlaug bowed to him. She watched him going away in the hallways, probably to his private room. She didn't quite trust the man, but he showed he cared about Frankia and her family. At least, he seemed more trustful than the two scheming counts. Maybe he would be a good ally. Then, she turned to Guillaume.

\- I was going for a walk to the gardens, or the stables. I could understand if you didn't like the smell of the horses.

\- You are wrong, dear Geirlaug. In all honesty, I love horses and horse-riding is my great joy.

\- Really, she smiled at him.

Well that was something in his favor, she thought. They walked to the stable and while walking, Geirlaug kept teasing him by touching him by "accident". His skin was warm and every time her hand touched his she felt a tickeling sensation. It was strange. On the other hand, Guillaume seemed to love it. He kept breathing heavily and everytime they touched, he seized the occasion to be closer to her. Actions she answered by moving away for him. She liked it. After a few minutes of suffering Guillaume finally started a conversation.

\- Did you go riding this morning?

\- Yes. What gave you a hint?

\- You dress, for starters, and then your hair. But I know that whatever you wear, you will always be the most beautiful woman on earth.

\- What a nice word coming out of a mouth that called me a pagan once, she ironized.

\- Are you going to remind me of this forever, he asked laughing.

\- Yes.

She smiled. They finally arrived in the stables and Geirlaug headed straight to her horse. She whispered some norse words to him and then, pet his hair.

\- That is some fine horse you have.

\- Yes. I was given Sleipnir by my father when I was seven. He was only one day old, she said with affection. He never left me since then.

\- Sleipnir. Is it another northern name?

\- Yes. Sleipnir, according to my father, is a mythical horse born from the union of the god Loki and a powerful horse Svadilfari. My father told me that Odin, the king of the Aesir gods rides that horse. It is said that Sleipnir has eight legs and is the fastest of the horses. Oddly, my brother's horse is named Svadilfari.

\- You seem to be really into your father's religion, he noted.

\- To me and my brother, these are just tales. Stories to tell by the fireplace during a storm or a harsh winter. This is a tradition in my family. My mother keeps saying that she hates it, but in truth, she loves hearing the sound of my father telling such stories. I remember one night, he was talking in norse and she just jumped on him. Afterwards, they ran to their chambers, she remebered with a smile.

\- So, you are tolerant on the matter of sex? If your mother likes it so much, doing it with your father, then surely you...

\- Don't want to talk about my parents's sex life, she cut him. I had enough nightmares in my childhood.

\- Tell me about your lovelife, then, he whispered, moving closer to her.

\- There is nothing to say. I fell in love with the idea of a strong man, a great warrior, rich and powerful, loving and dedicated. But it was only an idea. Ideas cannot give you love, she said bitter.

\- I could, he whispered his mouth next to her ear.

She started. She could feel his warm breath against her skin. All her senses electrified. She smelled him, felt him, looked at him, and heard him. His voice was low and hungry, his smell was a mix of the stable's smell and an exotic fragrance, his mouth was soft against her cheek and his hands were caressing hers. And she never really realized his dark eyes could turn golden. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath was cut. It was dangerous to stay beside such a desirable and tempting man. But she knew she could resist. So, faithful to her little game, she pressed herself against him, her breasts on his chest – oddly they were the same height, Guillaume was really tall for a Frank – her legs on his, and whispered next to his cheek:

\- Could you?

\- Yes, he said in a breath. You are worth every fight and every treasures on this earth.

\- Really, her mouth came closer to his lips.

\- Yes, he breathed.

Her lips were so close to his. He felt her breath against it and felt the need to kiss her. His desire slowly consumed him. All he wanted was to claim her lips, her hips, her breasts wit his mouth. He wanted to show her how he could love someone. How he could love her! He held her waist with his hand, roamming her back, trying to remember every part of this side of her anatomy. He felt her breasts on his chest, pressing harder on his body. Her touch, her breath and her lips, all of that made him hard.

\- Then, you would fight your friends for me?

\- Yes. Everyone.

\- Even count Robert?

This sentence alone made him come out of his transe. He dropped her and stepped back a few steps. He was missing her already. Yet, she made a point.

\- What of count Robert, he asked harsher than he should have.

\- I do not trust him. You know he hates me.

\- He does not...

\- He does and you know it count! I do not trust him. That is a fact. Would you fight for me if he did me any harm?

\- I... I don't know.

\- Then we are done. At least, for now.

She walked to the door and when she passed next to him, she put her hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear:

\- I loved this moment. Thank you count.

And then, she left. Guillaume was alone and torn. She confessed she liked being with him and yet, she continued to deny him as a lover and a friend. What was that woman and why did he had to fall so deeply for her? He still didn't want to marry her, but he considered it very seriously.

* * *

Guillaume – the other one. The names are confusing – was laid back in his bed, Sprota beside him. She dropped her flower crown but a few petals stayed in her beautiful blond hair. Her green eyes were looking at him and she was smiling gently.

\- What are you thinking, he asked.

\- I am thinking about you. And about our future family. I want to have a lot of children with you. We will be so happy.

\- We will. I am so glad your father accepted.

\- Me too. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

\- Do you want to marry at church?

\- You know my family is not christian, right, she frowned.

\- I know. Then, I suppose we will marry _more danico_ ?

\- Yes. Our fathers will be very happy.

\- I want to see you in a white dress, your hair down and a straw crown on your hair. You will be the most beautiful bride ever.

\- I will be your bride, she kindly said.

She brought her head nearer his and kissed him. Kiss, to which he answered with passion by claiming her lips, his hand roamming on her body. They were apart for so long he had to rediscover her hips, her thighs, her breasts, her arms, hands, face, lips. Her entire body. He began to undress her: he lifted her skirt and she finished the job by removing the rest of her dress. She, then, removed his shirt and his pants. Both standed naked in front of each other. Guillaume kissed her tenderly, his hand caressing her breasts while Sprota's hands were busy stroking his hair. He smelled as good as she remembered. He smelled of the sea, the fields and apples. He smelled like home. Guillaume sat back on the bed, Sprota moved between his legs while her bethrothed slowly kissed the upper part of her anatomy with devotion. Her back arched and she gave out a moan. His hands roammed her bottom while hers continued to stroke his hair. He laid on the bed and Sprota went on it, motionning herself on Guillaume. She knew he liked it that way. He entered her and as soon as he did it, her back arched once more. She moaned louder and Guillaume did likewise. Both motionned in harmony hands on each other's chest. They moved faster and faster, moaning harder and harder until it was too much for both of them and the nextdoor neighbours, if not the whole palace heard them.

They missed it. Both of them. Sprota drew patterns on Guillaume's chest with her fingers while Guillaume stroke her beautiful hair. He watched her breath like she was the most amazing thing in the universe.

\- I love you, he whispered.

\- I love you too, my duke.

Guillaume chuckled.

\- I am not duke. My father is.

\- You will always be my duke, she purred.

\- Speaking of which, how are my parents?

\- They are fine. Your mother misses you too very much and your father keep saying how good of an heir you will be. He is really proud of you.

Guillaume put his muscular arm around her waist to drag her closer to him. Sprota's presence was enough to make him forget Hugue's threat. He was glad she came.

\- How long will you stay here?

\- Three days. I am needed in Normannia and I have to plan our marriage. In the first place, we have to wait until Geirlaug marries count Guillaume.

\- He didn't ask me for her hand. And what she feels for him is not enough for her to want to marry him. Neither of them wants to marry each other. Our wait will be eternal.

\- Give it time, she smiled mischieviously. I am sure there will come a day when those two will marry.

\- How do you know?

\- Women talk with each other. And you know Geirlaug and I are good friends.

\- She loves him, he asked incredulous.

\- She has strong feelings for him, but she said that it doesn't mean she trust him.

\- Well, that's new.

Sprota smiled. She loved seeing her beloved lover that happy. But she felt bad of not telling him that the counts he considered as close friends were plotting against him. All of this was part of Geirlaug's plan to make them believe they were harmless so that she could counter-attack freely. Sprota knew that. She knew she was right to do so. Avoid any suspicions to be out of trouble, that was the rule. But she never hid anything from Guillaume. Yet, she suspected he would not believe her if she told him this. As much as he loved her, when he gave his trust to someone, it was hard to make him take it back. He was too loyal. She loved that side of him, but she also knew that someday, it would be the end of him.

* * *

 

Once all his duties of the day fullfilled, count Guillaume took shelter in his bedchambers. He still felt Geirlaug's hot lips on his ears and he had trouble not to be hard when he thought about this. Even if he progressed days by days, he felt he would never be able to make her like him. It was as if he was a donkey trying to reach a carrot tied to his neck.

\- It is hopeless, he sighed. She will never like me.

Then why did she confessed she liked being close to him? Was she just playing with him? Suddenly, Guillaume felt shameful. He enjoyed her playing with him and his emotions. He enjoyed it much more than he should have. According to his father and count Robert, a man being played by a woman was a bad thing. He was told that a man had to be the dominant one, the strong one.

If his father was here, he would have question his pride as a man. In Frankia, the men were raised in such a way they had to never show any emotion and they thought men were superiors to women. Despite being a bastard, Guillaume's father had been raised and educated the same way his own father had been. He was cold, demanding, proud, perhaps a little bit arrogant, but Guillaume knew that despite this education, he truly loved his wife, the loving Emilienne.

Guillaume was not like his father. His pride as a man was not hurt by the strength of a woman and her constant humiliations. On the contrary, he was proud of her. To love a woman that fierce and exceptionnal was something he could take pride into.

Yet, a strong feeling of failure invaded him everytime he thought about Geirlaug. Her constant rejection made him feel he was only a toy for her to use whenever she wanted. He loved her. He knew she enjoyed his presence too, but he doubted he would ever be worthy of her.

He sat on a chair near the window of his small bedchambers. His feeling of failure toward a woman he loved adding to the fact that he fought poorly and that he still haven't been able to fulfill the mission his father gave him, Guillaume began to weep silentely. At least, he was doing this in private. Had he been crying in front of his father, he would have been given several slaps and a stare full of disdain. He might even had been locked up in his room. At least, he was old enough now to know how to escape his prison.

He could almost hear his father say “Ha! You're incapable of gaining a woman's heart. How could you possibly win any battle? You need to be tougher, son! At least your brother is, which avoids me too many disappointments!”. Guillaume had a cold chuckle. As if he didn't already felt low, he had to inflict on himself the words of a disapproving father. What a poor excuse of a man he made, he thought.

If only! If only he got Geirlaug to appreciate him! Even a bit! It would be, for him, worth every riches, every titles and all the glory of the world. To conquer the heart of the fiercest and strongest lady in Frankia would be better than all his father's praises. He wished to be with her. He constantly longed for her sight and her scent. He wished he could smell her fragrance everyday God made. He stood up suddenly. He had an idea. An idea that, he was sure of it, would ease his suffering.

With a grin he got out of his room and headed to the city. He had some buisness to do.

 


	9. Chap9: The hunt

                                                

This day, the king decided to go hunting, so according to court tradition, all the nobles followed him on the track of some foxes or some boars. But anyone who could have heard the king in the morning knew he wanted to kill a deer and hang its head on the wall of his trophy room. The sky was clear blue, the air was warm and the wind was soft. It was a perfect day for hunting. The whole party left the very morning to catch something they would eat at the midday feast. Before they left, all attended mass and prayed for the soul of every animal they would hunt on this day. The king rode his horse, leading the party, his dogs running in front of him to catch the scent of any wild animal. Behind the king rode Duke Hugues and behind Hugues, rode count Arnoul and count Herbert. Geirlaug was riding at the end of the party. There she could watch the two scheming counts talking. They had to be very annoyed by the fact Duke Rollo wasn't dead yet, considering their shouts. Geirlaug smiled to herself, she loved to win. It was just a fight, but she liked her victory anyway.

Guillaume didn't join them on this hunt. He stayed at the palace with Sprota on her last day in Paris. Geirlaug was sad. Sprota was actually the only friend she had in Paris except for her horse. She would miss her dearly. Yet she couldn't help but smile to the thought of his brother and his bethrothed spending some good quality time together. She had no doubt Guillaume would take advantage of the empty palace. She had to change chambers while Sprota was here, of course, because she couldn't stand to hear their moanings. God knew she was tolerant, but she had her limits. Between Sprota, the lessons he gave to count Guillaume about sword-fighting and his personnal buisness, she had not seen her brother a lot lately. Thus, she spent a lot of time alone, if not with Sprota. She usually went to walk in the gardens, along the Seine and talk to Sleipnir. When Sprota was with her, they talked about their plan to destroy the counts or about marriage and love matters, which made Geirlaug feel uncomfortable. She kept thinking of what happened with count Guillaume in the stable. What an unholy behaviour she had with him. But he had such an effect on her, her sensuality and sexuality exploded. She wished she could talk about it to her mother without her to judge. But she knew Gisla would disagree on her behaviour, so she kept it for herself. Instead, she talked about it to Sprota, to which she answered that it was nothing as long as she loved him. But here was the truth: she didn't know if she loved him. At least, yet.

She watched count Guillaume's back. He was riding a few meters in front of her and she could admire the way he rode. He didn't lie to her. He rode very well. She watched him as his horse galloped. How his lower back moved up and down. She loved it. She was like in transe. She wished he could ride her like that. She wished she could ride him in the same way. She bit her lips watching the fabric of his shirt tighten around his butt. She gave a small moan out. Why did he had to be so tempting when she was angry at him? She stayed strong. She concealed this slight desire that burned in her lower belly and focused on the hunt. Fortunately the rider beside the count made her anger come back and forget what she felt for count Guillaume. Count Robert. She despised him. Often she saw him with Guillaume, spreading his venom telling him how bad Norman were. He used every moment she was near the two of them to diss and insult her. The man had no respect toward women. And less for her and any Norman girl. Sometimes, she hated him so much she wanted to blood eagle him herself with a rusty knife, like she saw her father do when she was forteen. And to make it worse, she felt more and more this predatory stare on her these days. She felt in great danger and she hated it.

Suddenly, a small move caught her eyes. It was an animal. She didn't have time to determine what kind of animal it might have been, but it was enough to make her want to follow it. She looked at the party in front of her for a moment, wondering is she could ride in another direction. She shook her head. They wouldn't even notice she would be gone. Why bother? So she spurred on her horse following the movement she saw. She loved riding into the woods. It reminded her of her home.

* * *

For his own distress, count Robert kept following him and he missed the chance of spending a wonderful afternoon with the young duchess of Normannia. And to make it worse, Robert used all Guillaume's precious time to insult the woman he loved. How good of a friend was he to make him so unhappy? Perhaps it was his fault. After all, he told him everything that ever happened between him and the sweet lady Geirlaug. He only wished his friend could come to like her so that he could be with her. But apparently he didn't. And everything he said made his hatred worse.

He spent the whole ride to glance at her occasionnaly. On what seemed to be the one thousand time he glanced at her, he saw the young lady divert from their path to go into the woods. Listening only to his instict, and without saying a word to Robert, he turned back and followed her.

\- Wait. Guillaume, where are you going? Guillaume, Robert shouted.

\- I'll be right back, Guillaume shouted back.

Geirlaug's horse was fast. Guillaume had trouble keeping her rythme. But as an excellent rider it was easy for him to catch up with her. He galloped right beside her and smiled to her. Smile to which she answered by rolling her eyes.

\- Do not slow me down, she sternly said.

\- Never, your grace, he joyfully answered.

They rode for what seemed an hour before they drove the animal they chased back against a small cliff. It was a wolf. A big one. Clearly it was a male or a very big female. Geirlaug dismounted and walked to the beast. Guillaume readied his bow and took an arrow from his quiver. Geirlaug shot him a death stare. He let his bow down while the young lady walked carefully to the wolf standing still in front of her.

\- Shhhhh, she whispered. I do not wish to do you any harm. Stay. Good wolf.

\- Are you trying to talk to a dog? He is a wolf, Guillaume whispered to her.

\- Shut up! You're going to make him leave!

Geirlaug was so close of the wolf now that she felt the beast's breath on her hands. It growled and she moved her hand back. She shushed to it and tried to tame him. It stood silently, considering her hand and staring straight in her eyes. It, then, looked at her hand and put his head on it. She gently petted his muzzle. It rubbed its body on hers but then a noise made by Guillaume's horse startled the wolf and it bit Geirlaug's forearm.

She screamed. The wolf ran away. She held her arm. The bite was deep and she was losing a lot of blood. Guillaume immediately dismounted and rushed to her. He was about to tear a piece of his shirt to make a bandage but she was quicker than him. She tore a part of her dress, revealing a part of her bare leg and made a tight bandage to stop the bleeding.

\- Lit a fire, she ordered.

\- A fire? But wy?

\- No "buts"! Make a fire! Quickly!

He complied. When the flames were high enough, she took a knife off of her sleeve and put the blade in the fire. Guillaume looked at it and realized what she was trying to do. He attempted to stop her but the burning knife was already in her hands. She approached it from her arm and pressed it against the wound. She let a scream mixed with a grunt come out of her mouth. She bit her lips so hard they started bleeding – but not as much as the wolf-bite. Guillaume diverted his eyes from the scene. He looked like he was about to hurl. When she was finished, she looked at her companion and smiled.

\- You are not going to be sick, aren't you?

Guillaume shot her an angry stare. Geirlaug looked surprised for one moment. She's never seen him angry. It was the first time she watched him react that way around her.

\- You could have died! What has gotten into your head?

\- I was trying to make it become my friend, that is all. Besides, I didn't die! I can handle myself.

\- But what if you did? Do you have any idea of how I would feel if you...

He stopped himself from saying that word. It was to painful for him to think about it. Never had Geirlaug seen him that scared. His voice was shaking and she saw a tiny tear on the corner of his eyes.

\- Count, it is fine, she comforted him her hand on his shoulder.

\- Show me your arm, he asked her rather harshly.

He inspected it for a minute and then dropped her arm with delicacy.

\- You'll have a scar, he said with regret.

Geirlaug smiled, then laughed. Guillaume was more puzzled than ever.

\- I can't wait to show it to father! It's like a battle scar! I bet he'll be impressed.

\- Wait, Aren't you sad you lost your perfection, he asked puzzeled.

\- What perfection? I am not perfect count. I have other scars you never saw, you know. Besides, aren't you not impressed by that, she asked waving her bare arm in front of his eyes. To me, this is a proof of my courage.

She deliberately touched his cheek and his lips with her arm, and to her joy, the charm worked. Guillaume's eyes went on her arm, hypnotized by her skin.

\- So? Does it change anything to my beauty?

Guillaume thought. Oddly, it didn't. It only made her more beautiful and more desirable to his eyes. Not only was she fierce, astonishing, joyful and clever, but she was also brave and bold.

\- No, he whipered. On the contrary lady Geirlaug, you are more dazzling than ever.

She came closer to him. She could feel his warmth against her body. She raised her head to his cheek and whispered, her lips touching his skin:

\- I thought so. Now, let's rejoin the party. I bet they're looking for us.

She stood up and walked to her horse grazing the wild grass. She looked around her and realized something: they were lost. She was so busy chasing the wolf she didn't watch where she was going.

\- Count Guillaume, do you, by any chance, know where we are?

\- I am afraid not. I was so focused on you that I forgot to watch around me.

\- See? This is where you lust has brought us, she scolded him.

\- My lust, he asked offended.

\- Perfectly! If you didn't chase me, we wouldn't be lost!

\- I chased you because I was worried you would end up in this situation! Lost and hurt! I chased you because I was afraid you might get into troubles!

\- Ha! like that could happen! Could you have protected me like you did earlier? Your hurling was really convincing, she ironized.

\- You... Is it wrong to want to be with someone you love? Do you have any idea of how badly I want to be near you every seconds? God! I even ordered Robert to not follow me because I knew you dislike him!

\- Really, she asked softening her voice. Then, do you really care about me?

\- That is what I keep repeating! But I am not ready to give up on my friend.

Geirlaug sat back next to him. Never had she seen Guillaume that angry. She had to admit she liked it, when he was in that state. He looked like manlier. Then, she made a move she never expected herself to do: she kissed him on the cheek.

Her kiss was soft and it electrified his body. He sighed heavily and looked at her. Her green eyes were filled with care and tenderness. His, were shining with desire and affection.

\- I understand. I know how valuable friends are.

\- Do you?

\- Yes. I never had any friends when I was a child. I was too wild and to busy with studying and behaving like a good christian lady. Even now, I only have Sprota, Sleipnir and some viking girls as friends. You have no idea of how alone I am in Paris. I only can rely and trust my brother, and yet, he keeps trusting the wrong people.

\- You can always count on me. I will be your friend, your grace.

\- Thank you, she smiled to him. Why did you asked my brother for lessons, she suddenly asked.

Guillaume's face fell. This was supposed to be a secret. She was supposed to never have words of this.

\- How did you...

\- I am good at discovering informations. Did you think I wouldn't appreciate you because of your disastrous way of fighting?

Guillaume lowered his head. "disastrous", that hurt.

\- Yes. I suppose Normans are the best warriors, and I assumed that was your type. I want to please you Geirlaug. That is what we do in Aquitaine. Please the women we consider as being worth a lifetime of suffering.

\- You southerners are quite the romantics... and yet, you keep bragging about all the women you wooed. Did you have sex with a lot of them? Let me guess... you slept with 10 women, she teased.

Guillaume stayed silent.

\- What? This is disgusting, she exclaimed.

\- Tell me about Normannia, he changed subject. How is it? How is the landscape?

Geirlaug shook her head.

\- It is wild. On the north part, there is a lot of hills and cliffs and on the lower part of the duchy there is plains and grapevines. Normannia has a lot of forests and the sea... The sea... How to explain? There are time when it is heavy and the waves could sink any ship. There are times it is calm and steady. My brother and I used to ride on the beach and on a cliff and watch as the big waves splashed us. We loved it. I love the power and the strength the sea posess. Sometimes, we would see a viking ship in the fog and be so excited about that we would scream at them. Those memories, I will cherish them forever.

\- Do you know that in Aquitaine, the waves are bigger?

\- Really, she asked her eyes glowing with curiosity.

\- Yes. And our beaches are long and ideal for horse-riding. I often ride there when I want to be alone. There is also a hill made of sand, in the south of the county. We have a lot of grapevines too and our wine is known to be the best. There are forests too. But I suppose it does not contain the same trees as your forests. In Aquitaine the weather is, I suppose, warmer than in Normannia. It is rather different, I think. Do you think difference is bad?

\- No. That is what makes something complete.

\- I wish I could make you complete, he whispered to her ear.

Geirlaug hid a small chuckle. Faithful to her game, she moved closer to him and put her hand on his thigh. Guillaume gasped for air and looked a the part of bare skin she was showing. She moved her legs to be more comfortable, thus revealing, thanks to the fabric she tore off of her dress, a light and thin leg. Guillaume gulped. His eyes went from her ankle to her thigh. Geirlaug smiled. He was hard again. All of this was too easy – and too tempting – for her.

\- How would you make be complete, she whispered.

\- I could, perhaps, start with this.

He put his hand on her leg and began to caress it. Geirlaug never expected him to do such a thing and even less to feel pleasure. She gave out a small moan wich made Guillaume gasp for air. His hand was roamming her leg while hers roamed his chest. She wanted him so badly and his eyes did not made it any better. She looked in those dark deep eyes, feeling that she could drown in it. His face was close. Dangerously close. She could feel his breath against her lips. She felt her lower belly become hot. She knew her behaviour was wrong but she didn't care. She loved and desired the count. She realized it now. He had so many aspects and she loved every of them. Yet, he had to gift to make her angry and make her blood boil. Never has any man did that to her. Her mouth was now next to his ear and her moans became louder as Guillaume's hand closened to her inner thigh. It electrified his senses and he felt himself consumming with lust. She put her fingers on his lips which he kissed intensly.

Both were so caught in their activity they didn't notice someone approaching. The rider made a loud noise which made them stop brutally and turn to the its source. Their faces fell when they saw count Robert, red with rage in front of them. His eyes went on Geirlaug's leg and then on Guillaumes hand on it. He seemed to disapprove greatly.

\- Count Robert, Guillaume nervously said, what are you...

\- Everyone is looking for you. I just came to bring you back to Paris. The king caught a deer and he is planning a feast to celebrate his exploit, he coldly stated.

\- Count Robert, we were just... you are mistaken... we were...

\- Of all the women on earth you chose that... that WHORE!

Geirlaug felt anger invading her body. She was so angry she felt she could open Robert's body and tear off his lungs and guts out. She grabbed her knife, but soon Guillaume's hand covered hers. He gave her a comforting glance and whispered "It's okay" to her. She calmed down and mounted on her horse still angry while Guillaume did likewise. Yet she was relieved the cunt showed up and stopped her. Who knew how far they would have gone if they hadn't been stopped. She was supposed to stay a virgin until her wedding day. She felt so shameful she could bury herself ten feets undergound.

Without a word, they rode back to the castle. Guillaume glancing from time to time at Geirlaug's bare skin and her, looking straight in front of her with an impassive face. Never, she swore, would she let herself go in Guillaume's presence. She was a lady. She had a duty, and she had to act as such.


	10. Chap10: Siggy and Angrboda

It was a sunny day in Normannia. A rarity. No naturally the duke thought that it was a perfect opportunity to pay a visit to one of the viking camps that settled there for winter. He was wearing a long short sleeved shirt and had an axe tied on his belt. He had to show the vikings he was still one of them. Rollo got out of his room and walk down the corridors to the great hall where he knew his wife was administrating the finances with some priests. As he was walking, his daughter came beside him, running and begging him to take her to the viking camp.

\- No, he said for the tenth time. Too dangerous.

\- But father, I want to see them! Guillaume is coming with you, why not me as well?

\- Because you are...

\- A lady, yes I know. But I am fourteen! Wouldn't it be nice I learn about my culture?

\- Your culture, he chuckled. You are Frankish Geirlaug.

\- Then why did you name me Geirlaug? This isn't a Frankish name! I am Norman, father and it is time I learn what that means.

Rollo sighed. He couldn't compete with a teenage girl stubborness. He wondered if Ragnar ever had that problem. Would Gyda have been that stubborn? He doubted it. She was kind and calm. Not like his daughter who inherited her mother and father's fire. Yet, he was proud and happy his children took their norse inheritance seriously. It brought him hope that Gisla would do likewise and perhaps appreciate this side of him.

\- Fine, he capitulated. Change yourself, grab a coat and meet us at the stable in ten minutes.

Geirlaug jumped with happiness and hugged her father. Then, she ran into her room and quickly did what her father asked her to.

Rollo's heavy steps echoed on the walls of the great hall. He met Gisla's eyes as soon as he entered the room. She looked proud of herself and her face showed victory. Apparently, she just won an argument. Rollo chuckled. He loved how they didn't need words to communicate. She beackoned to him, telling him to come.

\- What is it?

\- I wish you take Geirlaug with you today.

\- Didn't you say she was to be a lady?

\- Yes, I did, but it is a lady's duty to go and encourage soldiers. I wish you could teach her that.

\- Gisla, those are not soldiers we will go visit. They are northmen. Vikings. I thought you hated them.

\- I married one. A lot of your kind settled here. It is important for our son and daughter to know and learn about this part of their legacy.

\- Did you talk to Geirlaug lately, he asked with a grin.

\- No, why?

\- Because she thinks just the same. She is already as wise as her mother, he joyfully said.

\- Good for her, she said proudly.

Gisla raised herself on her feets to kiss her husband. Both smiled.

Geirlaug rushed into the room and shouted:

\- I am ready! Let's go!

\- Those kids will be the death of me, Rollo sighed. I see you tonight, he bended to kiss his wife.

* * *

The ride was long. The vikings decided to set the camp right next to the sea. A logical choice considering they had to be ready for their next raid to Wessex. Rollo was leading the party which was composed of his children and a few of his men – including Sprota's father. They finally reached the camp after a few hours of riding and all dismounted. Rollo headed straight to the main tent. He looked at ease there. More than usual. It was like he knew the camp already and where was all the food and the weapons. Maybe he kept that knowledge from the raids he was part of, when he was younger, his daughter thought. She followed her father and her brother to the main tent. A rather old man was sitting on a chair made of sticks and furs. He was tall, but not as tall as her father. He wore a lot of furs for someone coming from the north, she noted. He had long orange hair and clear eyes. Apparently, he was the leader of the raid. Her father spoke up:

\- Sigurd, I am happy to meet you again. How are Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar and Bjorn? I suppose they're pretty busy with all the raids in Wessex.

\- Ivar is raiding in Ireland, Ubbe and Hvitserk are in Northumbria and Bjorn is leading some raids on the Byzantine cost. I, for one, am thrilled to raid Wessex again. King Alfred is getting on my nerves, so I decided to punish him. Speaking of christian folks, how is your wife?

\- She is fine. She allowed Guillaume and Geirlaug to come with me.

\- Ah, Guillaume, you grew so much since last time! And Geirlaug, you are a fine norman girl. You look like your father so much. Did you teach her how to fight?

\- Yes. But Gisla won't let her be a shieldmaiden, so she is only practicing with knives.

\- Fine. Well, let's begin our talk then uncle. Your children can stay of course.

Rollo and Guillaume sat on the guest's chairs while Geirlaug asked in a perfect norse:

\- Can I go wander around the camp, father?

\- You can. But don't get in trouble and stay away from the berserker, he said.

Geirlaug nodded and then, left the tent where her father and the leader of the vikings were discussing what seemed like a treaty.

The camp was big. Geirlaug had never seen so much vikings gathered in a single place. She did as her father said when she approached bare chested men fighting. She avoided them. Her path led her to a place at the opposite of the main tent. There, she realized one thing: there were no men. The only human beings in this part of the camp were women. Geirlaug walked forward thrilled and excited. Her eyes were shining and she had a big smile on her face.

\- Shielmaiden, she whispered.

She noticed two women, sitting under a tent, sipping what seemed ale and chatting. One looked angry and the other one, annoyed. The younger one was the tallest. She had blond hair and multiple northern braids and was wearing a warrior outfit. The other one had khôl around her eyes and had the longest hair Geirlaug had ever seen. She was wearing a long sleeved dress and a belt with multiple bones and woodsticks tied on it. Geirlaug was amazed.

She stood in front of them, smiling, her hands joined. The youngest one, who was the angrier looked down at her and barked:

\- What are you looking at? Those christians! Always praying when they see a viking!

\- I am not praying, Geirlaug stated.

The woman started and the other turned her head to her, interested by that little girl who dared answer to her friend.

\- Who are you?

\- My name is Geirlaug, I am the daughter of Duke Rollo, she bowed to them.

\- Mine is Siggy Bjornsdottir, though I'd rather be called Siggy. My friend is Angrboda Flokisdottir.

\- Your father is Rollo then, Angrboda asked. I heard a lot about him. It is said he is a great warrior. King Ragnar used to speak of him in these terms. So I guess that makes Siggy your niece even if she is way older than you, she laughed.

\- You are Bjorn's daughter, Geirlaug asked.

\- I am no one's daughter. Even if he and my mother gave me birth, that doesn't makes them my parents, she said resentful. They abandoned me, she said to Geirlaug.

\- Are you a shieldmaiden, she asked full of joy.

\- Yes. I am, she said.

\- The strongest, Angrboda added.

\- Boda! You know very well that Lagertha is way stronger than me.

\- You don't know that, you never fought her.

\- Could you teach me some things, Geirlaug begged them.

\- I am only a healer, Sig will teach you, Angrboda smiled to the teenage Geirlaug.

\- This will be hard, I never taught to beginners.

\- I am not a beginner. My father taught me some stuff.

\- Really, Siggy asked pleased. What did he taught you?

\- I know how to wield a shield and how to fight with knives. But my father would never let me touch another weapon.

\- Do your christian mother approves?

\- Who is she to judge? Her, who threatened my father with knives on the first days of their marriage?

Siggy grinned and Angrboda smiled. They were impressed by the courage of the young lady and it was truly a delight to meet a christian who wasn't afraid of them and, on the contrary, admired them, was she norman. Siggy stood up and took a fighting stance. She beackoned Geirlaug to come and fight. The young norman girl did as she asked and took her two knives out of her sleeves. She grabbed a shield on the pile next to Angrboda and came to postition herself in front of the shieldmaiden.

Siggy didn't wait for the word "fight" that she was already waving her sword in the air. Geirlaug instinctively put her shield on her head. But instead, she changed direction and aimed to her side. Geirlaug swiftly intercepted her blow with one of her knives. The impact was loud and violent. Geirlaug made a few steps back. She had worse but Siggy's blows were just as strong as her father's. She ran to her, her shield held on her chest. Siggy grinned and then brought her sword down on top of her aunt. The norman avoided it only thanks to a mistake she made. Geirlaug dropped her shield, realizing that the shieldmaiden couldn't compete with her on a close distance fight. She punched and hit, trying to cut her opponent's flesh. Which she could have achieved if Siggy wasn't an excellent close distance fighter. Often, Geirlaug ended up on the ground and often she was able to touch her niece. Both women smiled, happy to fight under Angrboda's encouragement. They fought for an hour before they fell out of tiredness. Siggy handed Geirlaug a pint of cider, which she drank greedily. Then, Angrboda sat with them and began to tell edas and sagas to the young woman. Geirlaug was happy she came. Those women proved her that being a woman didn't mean to be weak. Women were strong, were they warriors or healers. Geirlaug wanted to be like them. She wanted to be as strong as her mother and as strong as a viking woman.

Suddenly she heard a loud shout at the other side of the camp calling for her name. She recognized her father's voice and quickly took her leave, thanking Siggy and Angrboda for the time she had spent with them. She ran to where her father's voice came from and arrived in front of him within a few minutes.

\- I am here father!

\- Geirlaug, where have you been? Why are you sweating and smelling alcohol? What did you do?

\- I spent the best afternoon of my life, she said with a bright smile.

* * *

Sprota was gone and it was time for the ducal siblings to train again. Geirlaug requested a training session for the whole week trying to avoid the nasty stares she felt on her, count Robert, the scheming counts and count Guillaume. She still blushed from time to time when she remembered of what happened in the forest. Yet, she couldn't help but feel hot when she watched him from behind. The way he walked, his back, his hands, his eyes, his smile, and his voice... His voice. A simple whisper from him was enough to make her fantasize about him and the nights they could spent if they were free from noble priviledges. She wanted to possess him as much as he wanted to possess her. She wanted to claim him as hers and push him against a wall to kiss him violently. She desired him so violently, so strongly. Her game became a pleasure and she took advantage of every occasion to tease him and feel his warmth. She often thought that as a southerner he was used to fire and that must have been why he survived to her fire this far. She almost loved him. She was on the border of a neverending pit and it would only take one tiny step for her to fall.

They finally arrived in the place they used as a training yard, away from the other nobles, from their sights and from rumors. The place was calm and they could only hear the bird tweet. As usual, her brother tossed her her shield, she grabbed her knives, him, his sword and both began to work. They were grunting in Norse, swearing whil each other dodged their blows. Soon they dropped their shields and began to train harder and more violently. Geirlaug loved it. She unburdened all her anger and frustration to her brother to which he answered with his own. Truly, they fought like wolves.

* * *

When count Guillaume went to ride, this afternoon, he certainly didn't expect to find the woman his heart desired on one bank of the Seine fighting her brother. And yet, there she was. Wearing a short and practical dress with pants, holding two knives in both her hands. She was more impressive than ever.

Guillaume had been drawn there by the sound of their shouts and had tied his horse to a tree. He had walk to the source of it and found the children of Normannia in the middle of what seemed to be a training session. He immediately hid behind a bush and observed them silently, afraid of being discovered. Geirlaug was beautiful. He had never seen her like that before. Sure, she used a burning knife to heal herself in the forest, but it was nothing compared to what he was witnessing. She hit and punched her brother so many times, with so much strenght. Every punches she gave produced a sound, himself could hear despite the safe distance from where he was watching the scene. He was certain she broke her brother's jaw.

Then, he saw a small spill of blood and realized she cut him with one of her knives. Her brother answeed by waving his sword to her side but she intercepted it with her second knife. The duke Guillaume made no efforts to hold his blows. He put all his strenght to the fight. Those were not blows to train, those were blows to kill. What kind of siblings trys to kill each others? It was like watching two bears fight. Guillaume was sure he would have died if the duke didn't restrain his blows during trainings. To his shame, Geirlaug was a better fighter than he was and she was standing up to her brother quite nicely.

That was there, when he realized how admirable she was, that he fell for her. He took his decision. She was going to be his wife and nothing would come in his way. He wanted to show her the sea, the mountains, the grapevines, he wanted to ride with her in the forests of the south and to enjoy wine and sex. He wanted to hear her talk about Nomannia, her father's gods, his customs and his stories by the fireplace. He wanted to sing her songs on her beauty and her skills. He wanted her to talk to him in Norse. He wanted to claim her body as his and her to claim his body as hers. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Focused on his emotions, he forgot to stay silent and produced a cracking wood sound. The noise made Geirlaug and her brother stop their fight and turn to where the count was hiding. He showed himself immediately, hands up, to reassure them.

\- I am sorry. I was riding and your fight made me come here. I didn't mean to spy, he said with his usual smile.

That was when Geirlaug face's fell. She suddenly became pale and was about to vomit. She dropped her knives and took a step back. Her eyes showed nothing but fear and panic.

\- No, she whispered. Oh no no no no no no no... NO!

Her brother turned to her surprised of her attitude. Count Guillaume stepped forward, worried and intrigued by his beloved's behaviour. He walked to her and raised his hand as to tame a wolf.

\- My lady Geirlaug? Are you fine?

\- You're going to burn me, she cried. I knew it! I knew I would be discovered someday! How ashamed you must be! A woman fighting! What was I thinking?! My reputation is ruined. You're going to say it to the king and he'll excommunicate me! Oh no! What was I thinking? What was I thinking?

Geirlaug was in tears. She moved so far back that she was in the water. Her brother watched as Guillaume came so close to her he could touch her shoulder.

\- My lady, trust me, never would I reveal what I just saw. And I do not hate you because of that. It is quite the opposite actually. You just made my love and admiration for you grow to a point God could not even contain it.

\- Really?

\- Yes, he whispered wiping a tear off her cheek. You might even be stronger than I am, he laughed.

\- That wouldn't be complicated, she nervously laughed.

He held her hand to get out of the water and both sat on the grass.

\- I will bring our stuff back to the palace, Guillaume said. You can rejoin me when you two are finished talking.

Geirlaug nodded to her brother. He left with a joyful smile on his face. Perhaps them talking would lead to a proposal, he hoped.

There was a silence before they started talking again. A silence only broken by the sound of a light breeze and the tweets of the birds. Geirlaug un-braided her hair, letting them fall on her back. Guillaume watched her more intensly.

\- When did you start training?

\- When I was twelve. I just became a woman. And I discovered that fighting made the pain go away.

\- You really are full of surprises. Are there any warrior women in Normannia?

\- No. But I know of some women who fights alongside men. They are vikings who came in Normannia between two raids.

\- Tell me more about them.

\- My uncle's first wife was a famous shieldmaiden. It is said that she was the best warrior that ever walked the earth. My father told us the story of when she killed another famous shieldmaiden in combat. Every woman that wants to fight admire her. Even my mother showed admiration when she talked about her. If that isn't a proof of how great she is...

\- First wife? Did she died?

\- No. she divorced my uncle when he cheated on her with his second wife, the princess Aslaug. What is funny is that both of them leads an army of shieldmaiden. My father often says that his brother is unable to keep his dick in his pants and that it only brought him troubles. Even if he doesn't say it, I think he misses his brother very much. Anyway, Aslaug's mother was a famous shieldmaiden too, her name was Brunhildr.

\- So, a lot of women fight, then?

\- Yes. In my father's culture, women are as valuable as men and they are respected and considered as equals. They can rule. The proof being Lagertha who rules a fiefdom between two raids and Aslaug who rules the kingdom when my uncle is away. Thus, my mother have a great political power in Normannia. She rules as good as my father and he always listen to her advices. He truly consider her as an equal. He always says that men must be worthy of the women they love. As an example, he told us the story of a young princess who was forced to marry a prince. She didn't judged him worthy of her and went viking instead of marrying him. She stole a ship from her father, gathered all her warriors friends, all women and sailed away to raid. Her father sent her bethrothed after her and he chased her for years. One day he found her and fought her. She was so impressed by the man's courage she agreed to marry him. He also tells us how he won my mother over: by learning her language and adapting to her customs. He made himself worthy of her. She loved him for that.

\- I hope I will prove myself as worthy of you.

Geirlaug smiled to him. Just hearing him say that made her heart filled with joy.

\- Maybe I should change the rules of inheritance in Aquitaine. Our lineage would be safe...

\- Our lineage? Why, count, you sure don't doubt a thing! Why would you think of us with children?

\- Because I want to marry you. And if, in the future, we only have one female direct descendant left, I want her to inherit everything.

\- Marry me? But I thought you wanted to stay free of the matter.

\- Not when I can spend my life with the amazing woman that you are. And it should be noted that I progressed a lot in fighting.

\- I can't wait to watch you, then, she whispered in his ear.

\- I can't wait to ask your brother your hand in marriage tomorrow, he whispered back in her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... Siggy and Boda. I couldn't resist to add them to the story. i am still mad at Hirst for killing them so, as I am stubborn, I made them live (muahahaha I am a god lol). As you noticed, this chapter is longer than the others and to tell the truth, the following chapters will also be longer (except for chapter 12). I hope you liked the references to the other women of the show and the story of Awilda (who is a real legend). As for Siggy, I figured she'd be angry at her family for abandoning her. But Boda is her best friend so she's okay, I guess. And she wasn't trained by Lagertha because she resent her in a certain way. And they are friend with Geirlaug because women uniting is so much better than a vulgar chick fight. ISN'T IT HIRST????? (yeah I am still mad at him. This season is so poorly written for women)


	11. Chap11: Count Robert's betrayal

Geirlaug was jubilant behind her brother's room door. She clapped her hands joyfully while making little jumps. She put her ear on the door to have a better hear of what the two Guillaumes were saying. She still had trouble to believe the count finally decided to marry her. It took him weeks to decide.

On the other side of the room, duke Guillaume was sitting on his chair and count Guillaume stood in front of him. Duke Guillaume was smiling while count Guillaume was nervous.

\- Your grace, I made my choice.

\- Regarding, Guillaume asked with faked innocence.

\- Oh please, don't pretend you didn't understand! I have enough of your sister to torture me!

\- Forgive me count, Guillaume laughed. Well, tell me now, what brings you here?

\- I came to ask your sister's hand in marriage. I love her deeply and want to spend the rest of my life with her.

\- I admit that your marriage would bring a powerful ally to Normannia. This would be an excellent marriage of course. But you can understand I cannot give my sister to the first man who comes to her. I am going to ask you a simple question: Why do you love her?

Guillaume's face fell. Just when he thought everything went according to his wish, an obstacle had to come on his way. The question itself raised anger in him. How dared this man question his love for the fairest lady of Frankia? She who was everything for him. She, who could brighten his days for all his life if her brother consented to let him marry her? He clentched his fists.

\- Do I ask you why the sun keeps shining everyday? Do I ask you why the sea is the sea? Why things are how they are? I love her because I do. She is the one who makes me live and breath. She brightens my days better than the sun. I love her, that is as simple as this.

\- Well said, Guillaume smiled. That was the good answer to give.

\- Then, you grant me her hand in marriage?

\- I do. I know my sister wants nothing but to be happy and perhaps you are the best option. You see, she needs to be challenged and I never saw her as joyful and happy as when she is with you. You seems to stimulate her brain which is good regarding her intelligence.

\- I want to be worthy of her. I want her to love me.

\- Who told you that this isn't the case?

Guillaume smiled mischieviously. If only the count knew his sister's feelings toward him, he would have less restraints. He saw how she looked at him. How her eyes were shining with mischief and love when she looked at the count. How she behaved in his presence. She seemed to have come to realize she was beautiful. She was aware of that before, but now, it was as if she had a full knowledge of that. Never had he seen his sister that blooming. And he knew the count was the reason behind it. He suceeded in his mission to find a spouse for Geirlaug. His mother would be so happy when he'll tell her. Of course, they had to plan the wedding. Geirlaug shall marry here soon-to-be husband in Rouen according to tradition and the groom had to meet their parents so that Rollo could give his consent. He wasn't the kind to be keen on giving his daughter away to strangers.

Count Guillaume was deliriously happy. His heart was beating fast in his chest and all his thoughts focused on his bethrothed. He was going to marry her. He was going to wed the woman of his life. He sighed with joy. He closed his eyes and pictured her long hair, her thick frowned eyebrows when she looked at him, her lips he was eager to claim, her eyes who said so much and yet so few. He pictured her, fighting, flirting, singing and riding. He couldn't wait to take her with him in Aquitaine and ride on the long beaches. They would be so happy together. They would have a lot of children and she would revolutionnize the way he ruled his fiefdom. He already planned how their own castle would look like. He wanted to bring a norman style to the architecture. He wanted her to be painted on every wall of this nest of love. He wanted to sing her songs about her fierceness and beauty by the fireplace and to hear the stories she knew about the northmen. He wanted to marry her already.

Both were drawn out of their thoughts by a loud scream in the hallway. They looked at each other, worried sick and stood up to rush to the door. It was Geirlaug's voice.

* * *

So far Geirlaug was excited and happy. She was listening, ear on the door, trying to figure out what the two men said. She heard one word out of three but it didn't prevent her from understanding their conversation. All was right in her world. She was an inch away from falling into the pit. One word away of falling in love with the handsome count. She was closer to possess him than ever. And truthfully, she loved it. She desired him and it took her weeks to realize it. He might not be her type, but he was by far the best man – outside her brother and father – she knew. At this point, she could almost forgive Robert, his friend for his behaviour toward herself. She heard count Guillaume asking for her hand in marriage, her brother asking him why he loved her and then, someone grabbed her arm brutally and pushed her violently against a wall, far from her brother's room's door.

The impact of her back against the stones hurt her so bad she grunted. She felt dizzy, a high sound resounded in her ears, her back ached and she was sure the back of her head bled. It took her a good minute to be able to see clearly again. She raised her head to her agressor and to her surprise – really? - they fell on count Robert.

\- Count Robert? But why, she said in a weak voice.

\- Shut up you whore!

Now that she could see again, Geirlaug had a clear sight of what Robert looked like. His eyes were burning with hatred and – How was it possible? - lust. Geirlaug was scared. More scared than she had ever been in her life. She was a prey, and him, was the predator. Now she knew to who the nasty stares belonged to. She could have killed the man this instant, but somehow she was unable to grab her knives and fight back. Robert was holding Geirlaug's wrists with all his strenght cutting her blood circulation and making her hands turn white and then, purple. He pushed her once again on the wall. Her head hurt. She was almost losing conscience. The count kept barking at her, insulting her. He used all the most insulting terms she knew of. Whore. Bitch. Heathen. Animal. Cow. Bastard. And some others a lady should never hear from a man.

He ripped off her dress, revealing her breasts. He removed her dress violently. She tried to object but he shut her up with a forced and brutal kiss. Geirlaug felt she was going to vomit. Never had she been so humiliated. She cried. Her face was wet with tears of anger, pain and shame. He kept kissing her on every part of her neck. Each kisses hurt her like a thousand of a berserker's punches. She was about to crumble on her knees but Robert's grip prevented her from doing so. He roammed her breasts with his hands. Geirlaug cried. She begged him to stop. He slapped her to make her shut up. She cried again. He unlaced the part that kept his dick in his pants and turned her down the wall. He was about to rape her. This thought rushed into Geirlaug's brain and she began to panick. She tried to shout for help, but he slapped her again. That was enough. Geirlaug had enough. She concealed for so many years, trying to be nice and ladylike. She had kept all her anger inside herself since the day she arrived in Paris. All of it rushed in her mind like big waves destroying a dam.

Filled with adrenaline, she grabbed one of her knives, turned to face the filthy count, hit him with her head and shouted. The count made a step back and then slapped her with all his strength. On the corner of her eyes, she saw the two Guillaume coming out of the room. She waved her knife as she learned to do during training. She cut his face and the next second, her brother was pinned the vile count to the ground. He began to punch the man with all his strength. Geirlaug stood beside him, half naked, a bloody knife in her hand. Her eyes were red from crying.

\- Stop! Guillaume, you'll get in trouble, she shouted.

Guillaume gave her sister an eye and then stopped, frustrated. He rushed to his sister.

\- Did he... Did he...

\- No. he didn't take my virginity. But my virtue, he took it, she cried.

She covered herself, in shame. She wiped her tears with her sleeve and dirtied her face with blood. She shivered. Just feeling his blood on her face was enough to make her want to vomit. Yet, she concealed once again her feelings.

\- I am going to take a bath. But I doubt that it'd clean my body. If you'll excuse me.

She turned away and walked past Guillaume. Her eyes showed nothing but sadness, anger and disappointment. How dared he let his friend do that to her? How dared he trust him now? She felt betrayed by the man she started to love. Now, she had nothing. She was tired. She was tired to fight for nothing. She felt weak. As if nothing she did was ever important. How could she even protect her brother now?

When she was out of sight, count Guillaume walked angrily to his former friend. He took him by his shirt and raised him to his sight.

\- HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO MY FUTURE WIFE? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BETRAY ME?

\- Future wife? Pfff. She is a whore. She shows her legs like a whore. She is of little virtue. She just had to not show her leg back in the forest!

\- Do you think she had a choice? She was hurt! She needed to patch her wounds and she did it all by herself!

\- Then, she had to show less skin. Do you see what she is wearing everyday? Doesn't it tempt you?

\- It does. But never, NEVER would I have forced me on her. She is to be my wife, and I intend to respect her as such.

\- Unfortunately, count Guillaume, I am afraid we must cancel our agreement. I doubt Geirlaug wishes to marry you. And at this point, I cannot really blame her.

Guillaume's face went from pure rage to suffering. It was over, then? He wouldn't get to marry his beloved? He shed a tear. Why did this man he used to call his friend had to be so selfish? Why did he had to ruin everything? His suffering turned into anger. He threw Robert on the floor, shedding more tears than he had ever done in his whole life. His homonym left the corridor, still angry at both men. Count Guillaume left in the opposite direction. He was torn. He hated Robert with all his guts for what he did to Geirlaug and indirectly, to him. But how could he ban Robert from his life, him whom he knew from childhood? He understood why Geirlaug didn't want him anymore. Yet, it made him so sad he felt he wouldn't be able to smile for the rest of his life.

* * *

Count Guillaume entered his bedchambers in rage. He slammed the door so violently the walls shook under the shock. He was in such a fury he threw his tables and some chairs across the room. Then he did the same with his books. He crashed his expensive jug of wine on the wall, trying to destroy as many thing as he could in his ire. He could have taken every stone of the palace to throw them in the Seine. He was so angry he could have burn his own county.

He let out a bestial scream. He grunted and kept imposing his fury on the furniture. His room now looked like a battlefield which corpses were his belongings. He didn't even care if he cut himself with broken glass.

He continued his wrath and destruction, breaking some expensive furnitures in the making. His hands and arms took and destroyed mechanically. Everything his eyes found was crushed immediately. He kept screaming like a beast letting his anger flow into him.

He was about to crash more things on the wall, when his eyes met a dry bouquet of wild flowers. Something he had had made by the best soap-maker and perfume maker in Paris. He remembered he had paid her a lot of money to have this done, and spent a lot of time to find the exact fragrance he wanted. Geirlaug's fragrance. Anger left him instantly. He slowly caressed the petals with delicacy. He smelled its scent and sat back on his bed.

He began to cry. His beautiful face was now distorted by sorrow and pain. All was happening so well between them and now Robert had to crush his dreams and ambitions to marry his beloved. And the worst part was he felt guilty for this. He should have known. He should have but as much as Robert's behavior was problematic, he still held a place for him in his heart. Robert was his friend, he was like a brother to him. He grew up with him. It was hard for him to cut those strings. Yet, his love for Geirlaug was stronger and Robert's dreadful attempt finally made him realize how bad of a friend he was. What kind of friend would ruin one's happiness for the body of a woman? A woman one loved and respected what's more! Not a friend, that was for sure.

Guillaume shed so much tears his pillow was wet. He punched the mattress out of frustration and sadness. Robert was not his friend. Not anymore. He would not care if he died. He even started to wonder if he ever had been his friend.

All his thoughts were now focused on Geirlaug. He smelled her fragrance once more and finally relaxed. He felt hollow. As if a void had been made in his heart. What a strange sensation for him. He felt so sad he thought only the arms of his mother would calm him. It was as if he regressed to childhood. He felt like he was going to implode. As if he was going crazy inside this room.

He stayed, prostrate on the floor, in front of the chimney, until night had fallen. Then, he stood up, unable to sleep, and headed to the stables. He needed the speed of his horse and the infinity of a starry sky. He needed it desperately.

* * *

The next day, the king, who heard about the affair, summoned all the nobles of Paris. This was an important matter. His niece had been violated by one of the most important nobles in Frankia. Something that couldn't be ignored.

Guillaume stood in front of his uncle, showing nothing but an angry face. He tied his long and heavy sword on his belt and was holding the pommel with all his strength. He felt like he was going to slay every noble in the room that dared to insult or stare badly at her sister.

Geirlaug was standing among the other lady. Her eyes were still red from crying and she looked in every direction like a fearful deer. She was a wolf, Guillaume thought, she should never look like that. Her outfit was all the more simple. She was wearing a large dress that hid her body shape. Her sleeves were long and the fabric made of black velvet. She arranged her hair in two simple braids. There was no fantasy. She was sallow and it seemed like she had lost everyting that made her charming. She didn't held her head high anymore. It was like she was dead inside.

Guillaume sighed. It pained him to witness his sister in such a state. If their father was there, surely, he would have blood eagled count Robert this instant. But he wasn't there and they were at he court of the king. They had to play by his rules.

Count Guillaume stood on the other side of the room. He kept glancing at Geirlaug and each stare was, for him, painful. His eyes were red, he clentched his fists and looked down with anger. He cried the whole night, thinking of what he had lost in a few minutes: his friend, duke Guillaume's affection and most importantly, the woman of his life. Count Robert could die, he didn't care. All he cared was Geirlaug. He wanted to know how she felt. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew she would never be the same again. He knew she was scarred. She was a warrior that had been defeated, and that feeling, he understood it. He suspected she did not want to be in the company of any man whoever might he be. The only person she looked at in the room was her brother. Guillaume envied their relationship.

The king finally entered and sat on his throne.

\- Count Robert, he said sternly. Come and stand before me.

The count complied while Guillaume shot him a death stare.

\- My nephew told me that you took his sister's virtue. Is it true?

The count angrily stared at Guillaume.

\- I didn't, he stated.

Geirlaug shivered from anger. How dared he lie? She wanted to kill him in front of the court. She did not care about her reputation anymore. It already had been ruined.

\- Yet, my nephew says that you tried to take her virginity and slapped her multiple times. Is it true?

\- No.

\- How dare you lie in the presence of the king, duke Guillaume shouted angrily.

The king raised his hand to stop the two men.

\- Lady Geirlaug, come here and tell us what happened, he spoke with a soft voice.

The young lady stepped forward, shivering. She looked at her brother and he answered to a mute question by nodding.

\- My brother tells the truth, your highness. If he had not stop him, surely, he... he would have had his way with me. He ripped my dress of and then... and then...

She stopped herself to tell more. She fell in tears. She did not want to live that again. It would destroy her.

\- She cut my face, the count pointed at his scar.

\- You hurt my sister far more than a simple cut, count, Guillaume shouted.

\- Well, well, well. Is there anyone else that can testify of what happened, the king asked.

All remained silent.

\- I can, count Guillaume suddenly said.

He stepped forward to the king.

\- What lady Geirlaug says is true. I saw count Robert trying to have his way with her.

\- Why, count Guillaume. What a fine betrayer you make, Robert spat. Yes. It is true that I tried to have my way with this little whore. But how am I guilty when she shows her legs and lay with the first man to come to her? I saw how she behaves. Like those pagans. Those savages! She is nothing but a tease and a bad christian woman.

Geirlaug clentched her fists. She wanted to cut his head and give it to the pigs. She shot him a stare full of pure anger and hatred.

\- This is a delicate matter to judge. I am only a king. My decisions might not be fair. Therfore, we will let God decide of that. Count Robert, duke Guillaume, I decided to settle this by a trial by combat.

Geirlaug raised her head and grinned. She alredy knew the outcome of such a fight. She stared at Robert and all she saw was a dead man.

\- You may all leave. The trial will be tomorrow.

All nobles dismissed. Robert looked at duke Guillaume disdainfully. Glance to which he answered by his eyes burning with hatred and bloodthirst. He couldn't wait for his sword to taste his blood. He would have so much pleasure killing the man. He wanted to fight already.

When Geirlaug walked outside the room, she crossed count Guillaume's eyes. He tried to open his mouth, but closed it a second after. He diverted his sight in shame and sadness. His eyes were red, to Geirlaug's surprise. He looked like he cried for the whole night. Yet, she didn't forgive him. He should have known his friend was up to no good. He should have realized his nasty sight on her. He should have let his friend down. But he didn't. His faith in his friend was absolute and it took the lost of her virtue for him to finally realize how bad this man was. She felt betrayed and hurt in her pride. How stupid had she been to trust and love him? She walked past him, torn between the hatred she had toward this man, and the love she felt for him.

* * *

She stopped her path behind a pillar when she heard count Arnoul, and count Herbert talking with low voices. She hid and kept listening.

\- What a perfect occasion the king have brought us.

\- The bastard will be slain all thanks to his sister. We just have to wait.

\- Let us just hope that Robert won't be a disappointment. Otherwise, we will have to do the job ourselves.

\- Maybe we should give fate a little push?

\- What do you suggest?

\- Poison. The boy will be unable to fight as good as usual. Then, Robert will kill him.

\- What of his sister?

\- She won't be a problem. With her brother and father dead, we shall marry her to one of our sons and she'd be kept as a hostage. Do you follow me, on this?

\- Always. For the sake of Frankia.

\- For the sake of Frankia.

Both men left. Geirlaug was angry. Those men wanted to prevent her brother to avenge her. They wanted to kill her family. She suffered enough. She might be weak, but she was clever. All she had to do is make Guillaume his food herself, and taste everything he ate. There was a chance she could die, but she didn't care anymore. Death could come, she would welcome it with open arms. She wanted revenge, first. And she would do anything in her power to get it. Robert had to die. She wanted to see his blood cover the walls of Paris. She wanted to put his head on a stick. To cut his dick and feed it to the dogs. She wanted him to never reach heaven. She wanted him to rot in hell for all eternity. Tomorrow, if everything went well, Robert would be dead. Tomorrow she would feel the sweet taste of revenge.

 


	12. Chap12: A bloody revenge

Geirlaug was walking down the hallways to the place of the trial. It was located on one bank of the Seine and her uncle built a row of sits for the nobles to see the show, butt stuck to a chair. She walked quickly as to speed up time. Her angry steps echoed in the empty hallway. Never had she felt so alone. She could hear the courtiers talk. She heard their whispers, took every rumors as a boiling blade sticking in her back and in her chest, thought of every laughter as mockery. She kept looking around her nervously, fearing any further attack on her.

She avoided count Guillaume as much as she could. And so did he. She did not want to see him. He only reminded her of what she endured. His simple face was enough to cover her with shame and suffering. Yet, she felt herself filled with regrets. They were having such a good time so far. She started to love him and she saw that it also was the case for him. Why, she asked herself, why did his friend had to ruin everything? If he had not been friend with Robert, all could have had been well.

She had been shown no comfort from the ladies of the palace. It was quite the opposite. They spreaded rumors about her. Women were good at that. In a day she found herself the lover of most of the nobles, the entire population of Paris and – that made her enter in a rage where she could burn Frankia to the ground – the king himself. So, in addition to a whore, now she was incestuous. She chuckled while crying. She wished all of this would stop. She wanted to go home and cuddle in her mother's arms. Sure she was 20. she was an adult that had to marry. But age is nothing when you just want to hug your mother. Gisla could find the words. She was strong. She learnt how to survive in court, she learnt to let the words slip on her skin like it was nothing. She learnt to be cold and strong. She wanted her mother, she wanted her warmth and her strength around her. She missed her so much. If her mother was here, surely she would have shut the ladies's mouths. They would have bowed to her in repect and apologize. But she was not there. Geirlaug was on her own.

She finally arrived at the place of the trial. She tried to give herself courage and whispered her father's poem. At this point, the war-cry was the only thing that could bring her courage. She put all her anger in it, all her hatred and finally, she felt some of her strength come back to her. She wasn't tired anymore. She was Geirlaug of Normannia, daughter of princess Gisla of Frankia and of Rollo, the crazy bear of the north. That, she should not ever forget it. She raised her head high and walked forward. She sat beside the king, at her rightful place as his niece and looked down disdainfully at the woman sitting behind her. She was afraid of them and of their words, but she kept it for herself. Her eyes were showing nothing but pride and anger. She hated them and they better had to feel it.

The king nodded to her and she did likewise. She was wearing her green dress with the large and long sleeves. On her neck, she proudly wore the necklace her father gave her. She kissed it and adressed a prayer to God. Her brother had to prevail. For her sake and the sake of Normannia. She couldn't inherit the duchy if he died. Her mother made the law very clear. Adding to that the fact that she could never look Sprota in the eyes if he were to die. But surely she would unleash her fury on the killers of her beloved. Geirlaug shivered. Sprota was the most terrifying woman in Frankia when she was angry.

Her brother finally arrived on the field. He looked at her sister and kissed the necklace offered by their father. Geirlaug smiled and nodded. The young duke was finely dressed, even for a combat. All in green, he didn't wear any armor, only a long tunic with short sleeves and a leather pants. Geirlaug noticed several women staring intensly at his muscular arms. She grinned. They haven't even seen her father's arms. Guillaume had brushed his hair back and tied them in a man bun. Even if he took his features mostly from their mother, he looked like his father, now more than ever.

Count Robert came to stand beside him. He looked at him with disdain. Guillaume was calm. But anyone who knew the young duke knew it was only the calm before the storm. Geirlaug looked for count Guillaume. She found him, just behind her height at the far left of the row of sits. His face showed nothing, to Geirlaug's surprise. It was like he was as dead inside as herself. He was in the perfect spot for her to watch him unnoticed.

Suddenly, she stood up and shouted in Norse, with all her hatred, to her brother:

\- Kill him. Kill the son of a bitch and bring me his head! Slice him. Cut him! Make him suffer! Blood eagle him if you have to, but I want to see his blood spilled on the grass.

Guillaume nodded. The words in her mouth were harsh. No one could understand it, but them two. Count Guillaume turned his head to her and smiled weakly. Count Herbert and count Arnoul looked at her slightly worried and intrigued. She could feel the hatred in their eyes and attitude. She knew they didn't understand a thing of what she said. But she was afraid her hatred and anger betrayed her in their eyes. She had to stay discrete if she wanted a chance of survival. But not today. Today, she decided to let anger and hatred flood her and let her go to revenge.

Count Robert spat on the ground. Apparently, he did not appreciate their tongue. Unlike count Guillaume who enjoyed each sounds that came out of Geirlaug's mouth. The young lady looked down at him. She couldn't wait to see him die.

She took good care of her brother before his fight. She asked servants to taste the wine and the food before he ate it, she watched his back everytime they weren't in their room. She could feel the counts frustration. Guillaume was going to win the fight and they could sit on their dirty little plan to take Normannia. She smiled out of pride. She saw the noble ladies's face turn to her in curiosity and disgust. Geirlaug didn't care. She wanted to see a fight. Her bloodthirst was inexhaustible. Instead, they should be glad she didn't ask for their heads too. She could have. She even could have done it herself had she been foolish enough.

The king stood up and said with a clear voice:

\- Let the combat begin! My lords, choose your weapons.

Both men bowed to the king and then, walked to the place where they would find their weapons. Robert took a Frankish sword and a shield, sure of himself. Guillaume looked at the weapons on the table. He shook his head and asked a servant to bring him something. He knew the weapons at their disposal were not suited for his fighting style, so he took the initiative to bring his viking shield and his long sword. Every nobles in the grand stand whispered. This was a heavy sword, how could someone be even able to wield it? Was the young duke out of his mind? The ladies started to be worried. The duke was a handsome man, and many of them desired to marry him – Geirlaug snorted – how would they live if their favorite died?

Guillaume gripped the pommel and with a grin he rose the sword. He made a few moves with it, waved it as a warm-up and turned it around in his hand. Robert's face fell. He looked so confident so far, but witnessing the norman wave such a heavy and long sword crushed his confidence. Guillaume smiled menacingly to him. That was at this moment Robert knew, he was going to die. But hatred and anger took advantage on fear and his confidence raised again. He shot him a scornful stare.

Geirlaug was sure some of the ladies fainted. She could clearly hear some sighs when Guillaume showed what he was able to do. Perhaps his muscles in action raised primal instinct in them. She had a sour laugh. And they dared to call her a lady of little virtue. Sure she enjoyed teasing count Guillaume and all the... touches. But she wasn't targeting a soon-to-be-wed man. At least she was targerting her soon-to-be-wed man. It was different. He had belonged to her. So, she was perfectly in her right. Oh, how those women would suffer when they'll see Sprota married to her brother! Because Geirlaug knew she would eventually come back to her beloved, and that day, she might finally see the noble ladies faces showing nothing but jealousy. She laughed to herself. That revenge, she would enjoy it too.

Guillaume and Robert were facing each other. They bowed to each other and Guillaume muttered:

\- Honor to those who are going to die.

The fight suddenly begun with Robert rushing to Guillaume with his sword in the air. He waved it down, but Guillaume dodged it easily, even with his heavy weapons. He was smiling. Robert attacked again, waving his sword trying to cut Guillaume. But the warrior avoided all of his opponent's blows. He was laughing. Robert looked so furious it was ridiculous. He looked like a child whose parents did not give him what he wanted.

Robert waved his sword harder and harder to compensate Guillaume's dodging. Guillaume redirected every single blows of him with his shield.

\- Are you tired yet? Cunt?

\- You son of a whore!

\- Ah! What a chance mother and father aren't there. Surely, they would have been very angry. And they shouldn't raise their tension at their age, he said.

Guillaume walked around the count like a predator about to kill his prey. Robert was defenseless. Guillaume crashed his shield on his and broke it in half. He grinned. Robert ran to him screaming angrily. He waved his sword in all directions, trying to touch the young man. This time, Guillaume fended every of his blows with his sword, making the count step back a few meters each blows. Robert was distabilized by those actions. With rage, he gripped his sword with his two hands and shot a blow on Guillaume's side. But the blade never reached it. Guillaume rose his sword above his head and knocked it down on the count's hands. He screamed. He looked at his wrists where his hands were attached a few seconds ago. Blood flowded out of his cut arms. A few ladies fainted, horrified by the scene.

But Geirlaug bore the scene without showing any emotion but pride and satisfaction. She held a little laugh when she saw the ladies faint. If only they saw what kind of execution she had seen in her childhood. She held her head high and smirked.

Guillaume was laughing. He loved to fight. And count Robert made a perfect training tool. He just had his sword sharpened and it was a pleasure to test its ability to cut. Robert was still loking at his wrists with horror. He cried and screamed like a pig. He ran to Guillaume in anger, the norman dodged him and sliced the back of his knees in the making. He fell instantly, screaming to death. Guillaume kept making circles around him and sliced him on every part of his body. This was no longer a fight. This was an execution. Robert howled with pain. His wounds bled so much, he was covered in his own blood. An unexhaustible flood came out of him. He begged for his life. But Guillaume had a mocking grin. He looked down to him, took his hair and raised his head to his.

\- You beg to a norman? What a disgrace, my lord, he ironized.

Robert shot him a stare full of hatred. He spat on Guillaume's face. He wiped him off his cheek, chuckling. Then, he rose and waved his sword above his head.

\- For the honor of my sister, he shouted.

And he knocked his sword down on Robert's neck. His head fell with a disgusting sound. His body stayed a few seconds up, and then, it fell on the ground. Guillaume panted, a satisfied smile on his face. He looked at his sister and saw her wiping a tear off the corner of her eye. She nodded to him, smiling weakly. She was avenged.

After that scene, Geirlaug highly doubted the noble ladies would still think of Guillaume as the perfect man. She was proud of her brother. He made her revenge come true. Every screams the count made, during his execution sounded to her ears like a sweet music. Sure, it wasn't enough to make her feel better, but that was a start. A good start. She tried to smile, but she was too weak for that. She went down from the grandstand and came to her brother's side. She walked slowly beside the dead man's body and spat on him with all her hatred. The son of a bitch was dead. Good riddance.

Then, she hugged her brother and buried her head in his neck. She was crying. All she wanted was to keep hugging him. She wanted to be comforted. So far, only her brother could do that.

\- Shhhh... shhh... It's okay. It's over. He is dead now. It's over, he said with a calming voice.

\- Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, she cried in his neck.

Guillaume smiled to her. The king rose and said:

\- The issue of this trial is clear. Therefore, I declare Geirlaug free from all accusations made on her. Now, let's go back to the palace. A fine feast awaits us all.

The nobles followed the king as he made his way back to Paris. Geirlaug turned her face to her brother and said:

\- You need a bath. Your appearance is awful. Look at you. You look like a peasant. And you stink, this is terrible.

Guillaume chuckled.

\- Fine, but you need to take one too. You dirtied your beautiful face with that cunt's blood.

She smiled to him. He was so caring with her. She loved him for that. Even after what happened, he kept joking as usual. That was all she needed right now and she was glad her brother realized that.

Keeping their embrace, they walked beside the crowd of the nobles. They passed the counts Herbert and Arnoul. Geirlaug couldn't help but notice their disappointed faces. She knew they wished her brother had die instead of the count. When Guillaume crossed their sight, they immediately changed expressions and smiled politely to the heir of Normannia.

Geirlaug crossed count Guillaume's eyes after that. He was standing aside, silent. Geirlaug tried to look in his eyes some feeling of guilt, regret or anger, but she found none of that. His eyes were empty. As empty as hers. She shivered. He seemed as dead as she was. Oddly, it pained her.

* * *

Guillaume had witnessed the whole scene, silent. He had no word to say. Even if he was quite sad his former friend had to die, he knew it was the right thing to do. After all, Robert stopped being his friend when he tried to rape the woman he loved the most in the universe. He betrayed him and had not the right to call him his friend anymore. Robert died in his eyes, the second he saw his hands on the beautiful Geirlaug's body. So, when he witnessed the scene, all he could see was a dead man. There was no need to be afraid or sad for a dead man. Especially a traitor.

He walked to his corpse and bended on his knees. He hated him. He wished he would never gain access to Heaven. He knew Geirlaug would end up there and he had no wish for her to meet with him again.

\- You see, that is the difference between you and me: you considered women as whores, while I considered whores as women. Look at where that attitude led you. You are dead, and I am not. May you never reach Heaven. Rot in hell. You may have been my friend, but now, for me, you are a disgrace. I will not pray for you, I will not help your family. If my lady wishes for me to put your head on a pike and wave it to your weeping mother, I would. After all, a dead man cannot ask mercy. I am glad you suffered. You made me and my beloved Geirlaug suffer. I have to say, I would have prefered him to blood-eagle you. She told me it is a horrible way to die. She is so full of creative ideas.

He said this in the greater calm. What he said was true. He hated Robert now. He was glad he was dead, for Geirlaug's sake. But his heart ached from the hatred Geirlaug must feel for him now. He loved her so much. He felt like his sorrow would never end. He wanted to be near her. Every second he spent away from her was a wrench. But he knew, even if it pained him, that he had to leave her alone. Perhaps did she wish to never be close to a man anymore. He wouldn't blame her. His heart was empty, but he did not lose hope to fill it again.


	13. Chap13: Apple pie

A week passed since the trial and the king's proclamation of Geirlaug's innocence. And yet, she did not see any changes. The execution helped her to feel better, but as soon as she did, she was broken again. The women kept talking behind her back. All were afraid of what Guillaume could do to them if they dared to insult his sister before him. Never had he such a bad reputation. Yet, people still respected him despite his scary behaviour at the trial. It saddened Geirlaug to hear the courtiers talk about her brother in bad terms. But she was happy he managed to let it slip on him as it was nothing. Soon, his reputation got better. It was all thanks to Hugues, the duke of the Franks. Instead of saying he was a bloodthirsty beast, he highlighted his abilities and fighting skills. That was the price of being a Norman. Because your father was a viking, people tended to only remember this and forget that you had a Frankish princess as a mother. Geirlaug remembered to thank Hugues later for that favor from his part.

Sadly, Hugues's intervention did not change the rumors about her. Instead, it increased them. Her attitude at the trial and the attempted rape on her made her an easy target for the people. That was why Geirlaug wanted to stay discrete. Now, people were saying that Hugues was one of her lovers. She apologized to him, of course. Apologies to which he answered by saying that it was okay. That she did not need to apologize for other people's stupidity. He kept contradicting the rumor by saying that if she truly did have sex with him, then he would remember it. And, as he didn't, then, Geirlaug was innocent of the crime people imputed on her. As soon as he said it, the rumor stopped. But most nobles had not that same consideration. The men kept bragging how they laid with the fairest lady of Frankia. Telling trivias, giving descriptions, making her reputation worse than it already was. Geirlaug was tired. She endured, but cried in her pillow every night. Her mother taught her to be strong, but not that strong. She was so tired she spent her days napping. She did not go to the gardens or the stables anymore. Just walking to there was tiresome. She lost her apetite and her will to live. What was the point? She had lost everything that mattered to her. She was unable to protect her family. She was nothing. She felt sweeped away by a powerful wave. She wanted to be dead.

Count Guillaume and her kept avoiding each other. Sometimes, they crossed eyes and Guillaume smiled sadly at her. He seemed sad. Geirlaug did not understand why. It was not him, the target of all the rumors. Yet, he looked like he suffered as much as herself. Every word spread on her, raised a feeling of anger in him. How was he supposed to live, knowing that everyone dissed on the woman he loved?

Fortunately, her brother was here to cheer her up, even if it wasn't efficient most of the time. He continued to joke with her, to tease her, as they used to do before. But it wasn't the same. Something was broken inside Geirlaug and it was as if her smile disappeared forever.

That night, she woke up and got out of her bed chambers silently, trying not to wake her brother up. She closed the door and walked, bare feeted in the hallways to get out of the palace. Her long curly hair was down on her back and she was wearing nothing but a light white dress. She checked if her knives were in her narrow sleeves and nodded to herself. She was crying silently. What she was about to do was aweful, but she couldn't help it.

She went across the city unnoticed, covered by the darkness of the night. She finally reached the place she wanted to be. She was still near Paris, but far enough for the walls to seem small. Her steps led her to one bank of the Seine. She walked in the water. She was far enough from the shore and the water's level reached her chest. There, she took one of her knives, and cut one of her wrist. She was about to cut the second when she heard a splash of water, made by a rider.

* * *

Count Guillaume suffered from insomnia since Geirlaug's rape. Every time he tried to sleep, he saw that terrible scene. He suffered from this. Obviously as soon as the trial was passed Robert was buried without any honors. A mass had been said, naturally. But only a few people attended this. Guillaume was part of those people. He knew Geirlaug would hate him for that, but Robert had been his friends. He felt like he still owed it to him. He made sure to comfort Robert's mother, a widow who would regret her beloved son, and to find a good loving husband for his little sister he now considered as his own. But all this did not erase what Robert had done and his own attitude toward him. He should have known. He should have done something. But he did not. So naturally, to forget his feeling of failure and his self-resentment, he went riding. Horse riding was the only thing that could calm him since he was a child. He loved to talk to his horse and the speed allowed him not to think too much. There was nothing more comforting for him than a ride under the moon light.

But that night, his eyes stopped to something in the water. He recognized the shape of a woman's body and saw a blade, highlighted by the moon light. He saw her cut one of her wrist. His heart skipped a beat. There was only one woman who possessed such knives in Paris.

He rushed to her, hoping he would get to her on time. His horse galloped in the water with a big noise. The woman turned back to him and he began to panic. This woman was no other than his beloved. He witnessed her blood dripping in the water. This vision itself raised his heartbeat. He took her by her waist and put her on his horse, strengthened by adrenaline. She was surprised at first, but when she had enough time to recover from that, she started screaming and hitting him. Guillaume's heart beat so fast he thought he was going to die. He breathed heavily to calm himself.

\- What are you doing, she shouted. Let me go!

\- No, he objected.

\- I don't need your saving! I am strong enough!

\- Yes. But you need help. And I want to help you! Let me help you.

\- Like you helped me with your friend?

Guillaume shot her a dark stare.

\- How am I guilty for this son of a bitch's sins? I cursed his name the second he laid a hand on you.

\- You don't understand how humiliated he's made me. Don't you have had word of all the whispers about me at court? Every word is a blade. How could you live with all this daggers on your back? You don't undersatnd how it feels! You're not the one to live with the fact that people think you're a whore. Do you have any idea of how many courtiers claims that they had laid with me? You don't. You can't understand or feel my pain.

\- You're wrong, he stated. I feel your pain as deeply as you. Every whispers about you makes me angry. Every dagger that stabs you, I feel it. Every courtiers's claim, makes me want to kill. Who are you to decide I am not suffering from your pain?

Geirlaug looked down, silently. Guillaume rose her so that she sat on the saddle. He petted his horse's neck and drove it back to the palace. He silently tore a part of his tunic and tied it around Geirlaug's bloody wrist. She glanced at him, puzzled. Why was he so nice with her? Why didn't he hate her for what she did to his former friend?

Guillaume stayed silent for the whole ride back to Paris and when they dismounted. Geirlaug tried to read his eyes. They were empty and showed nothing but sadness.

\- Let me escort you back to your chambers, your grace, he sighed.

He gently took Geirlaug's arm and walked her to her door. He was about to leave when she held him back.

\- Don't leave. I don't want to be alone at the moment.

\- Your brother is in here. You won't be alone.

\- He is sleeping. I doubt he wants to be awoken by me crying.

Guillaume sighed. He beckoned her to follow him. His room wasn't that far from hers and he invited her in. She silently entered the place and sat on a chair. She expected his room to smell a musky scent, but it didn't. Instead, she smelled flowers and fruits. He had a large bed and his sheets seemed comfortable. On a table, she noticed a glass, a fruit basket and a pitcher of wine. A pile of books was standing next to his bed. Her eyes, then, fell on a dry bouquet of wild flowers. It smelled familiar to her. She tried to remember where and when she ever had smelled it, until she realized what scent it was by smelling her hair. It was her fragrance. She was slightly impressed. Apparently, Guillaume was a man of great culture and taste. He lit a fire and put a blanket around her. He sat on the floor, his back laid on his bed. He took a book and read it for a few minutes. Geirlaug stood up and came to sit beside him. She put her head on his shoulder.

\- Thank you, she whispered.

\- What for?

\- For offering your help to me.

\- Anything for you.

\- Why were you riding at such a late hour, she asked.

\- I couldn't sleep. Riding was the only thing to calm me down.

\- Why couldn't you sleep?

\- I was suffering.

\- Suffering?

\- Yes. You see, I was thrilled to marry you. I did. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and only you. But this... event happened and since then, I lost my sleep and apetite. I love you my lady. I love you so deeply it hurt me to see you in such a state. I think I would die if something ever happened to you. But I know you hate me. You have every right to do so. That is why I am suffering.

\- I don't hate you, she whispered.

Guillaume looked at her. She was staring at him with her green eyes. She talked in all honesty. For the first time in a week, Guillaume smiled.

\- To be honest, I spent with you the best days of my life. I enjoyed it greatly and I appreciated that you were so considerate toward me and my culture. And you seemed to respect me for who I am, something I thought no man would ever do. So, I don't hate you. It is quite the opposite.

Guillaume felt life coming back in his body. Suddenly, he was filled with hope.

\- How am I going to hide this, she asked herself looking at her wrist. I cannot go wander around the palace with this scar.

\- Consider this as a battle scar. Like your wolf bite. You are a warrior, dont you forget that.

\- Thank you, she kissed him on the cheek.

Guillaume took her in his arms tenderly.

\- Why did you want to commit suicide in such a way? Exposing this to everyone. This is kind of a dramatic way to die, don't you think?

\- I am tired of all the courtiers's rumors about me. I am so tired. The least I could do was to make them guilty. They had to pay.

\- By killing yourself and hurting your family? That would have been terrible if Duke Rollo learnt it. He would have killed the nobles and commit a terrible diplomatic incident. I thought you were smarter than this.

\- I thought you would support me.

\- I do. But not in this state. You are the daughter of a viking, for Christ's sake. You are strong, clever, joyful, full of ressources. I fell in love with you for that. I want you to make them pay, but not like that. Raise your head, straighten up and show them who you are. I will support you, if that is what you want.

Geirlaug cried of happiness. He was so caring with her, so supportive. He didn't believe a thing of what people said. He trusted her. Respected her. It felt so good after days of hatred. She buried her head in his neck and he tightened her grip around her shoulders.

\- I accept your support, she sniffled.

She nestled in his arms. He was so warm. She felt at peace with him. She was back again at the verge of the love pit. She smiled.

\- I still feel dirty, though. I took hundred bathes, but it seems like I still feel his filth on my skin.

\- It will go away eventually...

\- I am already feeling it. Thanks to you.

She rested some more time in his arms, silent. She napped at one moment, her head on Guillaume's shoulder. Her breath was so calm it made him nap too. His head landed on her's. Both were breathing calmly. Guillaume woke up what seemed days later. His eyes fell on the beautiful lady sleeping in his arms. It was not a dream then, she did forgive him. She did said she didn't hate him. He was relieved and deliriously happy. She slowly opened her eyes. And looked at him. At first, she panicked, but Guillaume petted her hair whispering her to calm down, that she was safe. She relaxed and laid her head back on his chest. She liked his contact on her hair, how he was stroking is gently, with all the love he felt for her. She closed her eyes and sighed.

\- You snore like a bear, Guillaume whispered to her.

Geirlaug chuckled. Her father used to be called "the crazy bear", she couldn't wait to tell the joke to him.

Guillaume began to braid some of her locks. She smiled out of happiness. Sure, his braids would not be as elaborate as her father's, but it was enough for her to regain affection toward the count. Her body was filled with warmth. She wished she could stay in his arms forever.

\- Did you know that I almost drown when I was a little girl?

\- Really? How did it happen?

\- My father took me and my brother on a longboat to inspect the coast. You see, I love sailing. My brother too. We love the speed, the boat slipping on the waves. It is a whole different feeling than riding. It's like flying. So, he took us with him despite our mother's worries and we were having a great time. We laughed, the waves kept splashing us. I remember Guillaume's face, he looked like he took a bath with his clothes, she laughed. I doubt I looked like any better. I remember our father. He looked like he was proud and he laughed. That is a rare thing when our father laughs. I don't know what happened in my mind. I wanted to feel the speed better, so I went to the front part of the ship. I climbed the prow trying to have a better look at what was before us. But then, a stronger wave hit the ship on its flank and I fell into the water. I did not really know how to swim back in that time. I learnt after. The sea was dark, and all that time, we were trapped in a storm. I tried to struggle, to keep my head out of the water, but the waves were stronger and submerged my head. I tried to call for help, but it seemed like I didn't know the words anymore. All my mind was focused on the fact that I was going to die. I was panicked. I tried to stay out of the water for a few minutes, but I was little and weak, so I eventually gave up out of tiredness. I let myself fall into the deep waters. My brother came to save me. He told me so after that. But the waves were too strong for him too. I think I heard a scream. It was a scream of despair. It made me sad in my unconciousness. Next thing I saw was my father's face, on the boat. What bugged me was that he was soaked and he looked like he was crying. He hugged me and my brother. I never saw him in such a state. He was crying and held us tight against him. His voice was broken and he whispered some prayer to his gods. I suppose we really scared him. We asked him what was wrong, but he did not answer. Instead, he was looking sadly at us. He sang us a song to calm us down. Apparently our faces showed panick. He didn't say a word for the whole trip after that. When we got home, we told mother what happened. She didn't yell at our father, to our surprise. She did not say he was wrong to let us have come with him. Instead, she hugged us, and went to comfort our father. Later, she told us he lost someone he cared about in the water. A woman he used to love drowned saving his brother's sons. My father said he wasn't ready to make any sacrifice to Ran whatsoever.

\- Who is Ran? Another god?

\- She is a goddess of the sea. A very important goddess.

Guillaume stroke her hair once more. She was beautiful. Her hair took a pinkish shade produced by the light of the dawning sun.

\- Are you hungry, Geirlaug? I am beginning to starve.

\- I am.

\- What should I ask the cook to make?

\- I feel like an apple pie would be good. I love apple pies.

Guillaume smiled and stood up, breaking their embrace. Geirlaug instantly felt his loss. She needed his warm arms around her, just as she needed air. He went out of the room for a minute and came back soon after. He sat back on the floor and took her back in his arms.

\- I always wondered: what does Geirlaug means?

\- Geir, means spear and Laug, means to swear an oath. So, I think it might mean to swear an oath on a spear.

\- This is a beautiful name. The name of a warrior.

\- I think my father would have loved me to become a shieldmaiden, she chuckled. But I am the daughter of a Frankish noble and a Frankish princess. I cannot be a shieldmaiden. Besides, I doubt the church would approve on that. I prefer to think of my name as a meaning of duty.

\- Geirlaug. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

\- Guillaume. Such a common name for two men I love.

\- Love? I thought you just liked me, so far.

\- Perhaps. But it all changed when you put your arms around me. I love your warmth.

\- And I love your voice.

It was an odd feeling, being awake when no one was. The silence gave an impression of cosyness, intimacy and peace. It was like having a secret no one would ever know. This secret being, in this case, a newly born love.

\- What do you like to eat, she asked.

\- Roasted boar with cherries, complemented with fine wines. And now, apple pies.

\- But you haven't even tasted it yet, she chuckled.

\- I trust your tastes.

\- You better do! Do you know archery?

\- Yes. I often hunt and I particularly enjoy shooting arrows while galloping. And you?

\- I am not very good at it. I am better with a shield and two knives, she confessed.

\- Would you teach me how to use a shield the viking way?

\- Yes. But not in the palace. I have enough of rumors about me and I don't want any more insults made to me.

\- Take me to your training place, then.

Geirlaug gently put her head on his shoulder when they heard a knock on the door. Guillaume went to take the pie and came back to his place. He put the plate on the floor. Geirlaug and him looked at it for a minute.

\- How will we cut it, she asked puzzled.

\- I thought you always carried knives with you, he said with irony.

She made a face to him and smiled. She took one of her knives and cut the pie. Such a common way to use knives but so unusual for Geirlaug. Guillaume took one slice and looked at Geirlaug. She was opening her mouth.

\- What are you doing, he asked chuckling.

\- Pu I I ma mou.

\- What, he laughed.

\- Put it in my mouth, idiot, she joked.

Guillaume laughed, separated his slice in several small pieces and put one in Geirlaug's mouth. As soon as it was in her mouth, she chewed it with delight and a wide smile. The count turned his head and laughed. Geirlaug slapped his arm jokingly.

\- Stop mocking me. Give me that, she pointed at the pie bits in Guillaume's hand. Your turn. Open your mouth.

The count complied but as soon as the bit reached his lips, she took it back and put it in her mouth. She chuckled. Guillaume shot her an amused stare.

\- Hey, that's cheating! Give it back!

Geirlaug laughed again but took a piece in her fingers. She approached it to his mouth he opened wide. She put it inside and the count closed his lips on her fingers. She slowly took them off. Oddly, she loved the contact of his lips on her fingers. Guillaume chewed the pied, looking at the ceiling. Then, when he finished, he looked at her and said with enthusiasm:

\- This is the best pie I ever had

She smiled. He repeated the gesture, feeding her and feeling her lips on his fingers in the making. In truth, he desired her now more than ever. But his respect was stronger and he kept it for himself. He loved her, and she was going to be his wife no matter what. At this point, he didn't want it to fail again. He knew he would never recover would it be the case.

When they finished the pie, it was time for Geirlaug to come back in her chambers. She silently got out of the count's room and walked the corridors unnoticed. Guillaume escorted her, just in case. When she arrived at her door she turned to the count.

\- Thank you. For everything.

\- There is nothing to thank me for, your grace. I would have done everything for the woman I love.

She lowered her head and smiled to him. Then, she entered her room, happier than she was at the beginning of the night. She swiftly slipped into her bedshifts and laid her head on her pillow. She had fallen in the pit. She loved him.

She smiled.


	14. Chap14: Dealing with consequences

Strangely, after that night, the courtier's rumors and words about her no longer had any effect on her. She and count Guillaume were now the keepers of a secret which gave both of them the strength to face any rumors. She knew he had her back and would support her in the darkest time. Now that she thought of it, he fully respected one line of the wedding vows. She smiled to herself. They were practically married now.

After that night, they spent more time together, to Geirlaug's brother's surprise. And every time they were apart from each other, they made eye contact and then diverted their sight, smiling. Now that Robert was dead, Guillaume lived his love to its fullest. The courtiers had many interrogations. Why did the seductive count spend his time with only one woman? He was known to have sex with a lot of women, so why did he only looked at one now? And why the daughter of the duke of Normannia? She was in disgrace, her reputation was ruined. It was weird for a man so interested in appearances to be seen with that woman. Rumors said that she had sex with him and that she bewitched him. It made Guillaume laugh. They were right on the bewitchment part, but they had no idea of how wrong they were on the sex part. It was true they almost sinned two times, but she was to be his wife, they had nothing to be blamed about.

Guillaume had the impression that this night was a dream. The most wonderful dream a man ever made. He felt some kind of magic was in the air. But perhaps was it just his imagination. Every sight of his beloved filled his heart with warmth, love and hope. She had kept the braids he made with her hair and when she was asked about it, she didn't say a thing, instead, she smiled mysteriously and stroke her braids. Guillaume was happy she kept them. He knew her braids did not look good, and he loved her for not saying so. Instead, she comforted him and said that those were the most beautiful ones because they had been made with love in a moment she'll forever cherish. Guillaume loved her hair. Often, when they went walking in the gardens, he tried to improve. One day, Geirlaug tried to braid his hair too. As short as his hair was, she still managed to make him look like a viking. He remembered how she had laughed while making it. How she looked at him after that. It was as if she rediscovered him. He liked it, the way she looked at him. She looked at him the way he looked at her.

Their attitude did not go unnoticed. And especially not to Geirlaug's brother. One day he went to find the two of them in the stables. Geirlaug was petting her horse while Guillaume was cleaning his saddle. The duke put his fists on his hips.

\- What does it means, he asked brutally.

Geirlaug and count Guillaume turned their heads to him.

\- What, Geirlaug asked.

\- You two. I thought you hated that man. But it seems that in one night you drastically changed your opinion about him. What could possibly have happened in that night for you to love him? Are the rumors true? Did you have sex with him?

\- The simple fact that you believe those stories is deeply offensive, brother. I tought you were not that stupid, but apparently I was wrong, she yelled. How dare you? You, my own brother?

She was shaking. Count Guillaume came by her side and stroke her hair gently, putting his hand on hers.

\- I will speak to your brother, my love. Trust me.

Geirlaug nodded. She was about to cry and Guillaume couldn't bear this sight. He walked to duke Guillaume and stood straight. The duke was taller and lager than him. He could destroy him in a single blow. But Geirlaug's love seemed to have given him wings.

\- Your sister and I spent the night together. That is true. But we didn't lay in bed. We were sitting on the floor. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we slept. I tried to comfort her after she tried to cut her wrists in the Seine.

While saying this last sentence, the count shivered.

\- She told me stories. She made me laugh, as did I. We ate an apple pie. That is all.

\- Cut you wrists? Why would you do such a thing, Guillaume asked breathing heavily.

He looked pained. Shock could be seen on his face. Geirlaug lowered her head in shame.

\- Because I was tired, she muttered. The courtiers' stories about me nearly destroy my will to live. It is a chance count Guillaume was riding by the shore, otherwise, you would be an only child at this hour. He grabbed me, took me on his horse and healed my wounds. When I cried, he remined me of who I am. He gave me courage, she said while looking at her beloved.

The count smiled back to her. Duke Guillaume looked at them both and asked puzzled:

\- Why were you riding at such an hour?

The count chuckled.

\- Your sister asked me the same question. Ever since you denied her hand in marriage to me, I lost my sleep and apetite. So I went riding to relax.

\- Why, count, I did not know my sister had such an impact on yourself.

\- I thought I told you I love her, he said smiling.

\- And you, he asked to his sister, do you love him?

\- Nothing is quite sure yet, she teased her beloved.

Duke Guillaume smiled to himself. Apparently, his sister was feeling better. And all the credit belonged to the count. Perhaps it was a mistake from him to have cancelled the wedding. Or perhaps, things were supposed to happen this way.

\- I'll have your head if you try to hurt her, he said to the count. I'll take my leave, now. I have some buisness to discuss with Herbert and Arnoul.

Then, he turned back and left. Count Guillaume turned his head to Geirlaug.

\- Train me. I don't want your brother to kill me any soon, he joked.

Geirlaug didn't pick up what he said. Instead, she was staring the stable's exit worried. Those counts, again. She had to do something against them. It was clear now that her brother trusted them too much. Whatever she might say against them, now he wouldn't believe her. They had to be dealt with. She had to call Sprota back. And maybe ask for a little reinforcement.

\- Geirlaug, are you okay?

\- What? Oh yes, sure, she said getting out of her thoughts. Now, do you want to mount on Sleipnir?

* * *

Geirlaug had to speak with duke Hugues. It began to become an emergency. He had to drag her brother out of those men's influence. She knew they were up to no good. She wrote Sprota of course and she hoped that she and the reinforcement would arrive soon. She slowly recovered from what happened to her, but it was not enough yet for her to fight them face to face. She was sick of playing it nice and it was time she expressed some rage. Count Robert, dead, she had bigger fish to fry.

A week passed since her attempt to cut her wrists in the Seine. Today, after what seemed hours of begging, she finally granted count Guillaume a training session. She asked her brother to come and continue his training in swordsmanship. If the count wanted to succeed in war, he had to be prepared. Who better than her and her brother to teach him some things?

She stood near the shore of the river and adjusted her shield on her arm. Her wooer was standing in a fighting stance in front of her. He smiled joyfully. One of his dreams was about to come true. Geirlaug, on the contrary was showing nothing but a straight face. Fighting was serious. It was kill or be killed.

\- Fight, she shouted.

Guillaume rushed to her. She dodged him easily.

\- Don't run in a fight so stupidly. This will only get you killed, she sternly said.

To demonstrate what she was saying, she took advantage of his distability to make him fall on his knees.

\- If I had a sword, you'd be dead already. Let's do it again. This time, study your opponent. And keep your feets on the ground. Let's try again.

She held her shield tight on her arm and slowly walked to him. She studied every moves he made, even the tiniest ones. Then, she attacked. She was swift and strong. She pushed her opponent with her shield, trying to make him fall. She hit harder and harder, until his knees bended under her strength. Then, she stopped and nodded.

\- Fine, you understood. Now, attack again. And show no mercy.

He did as she said and soon began a dance rythmed with the sound of the shields crashing into one another. Often, he almost dropped his, but he managed to keep in in his hand. Her blows were powerful enough to make him step back. Two times she managed to make him drop his shield. And two times, he took it back and began to dance with her again. Both gave up enventually, exhausted by their efforts. Guillaume's muscles ached and so did Geirlaug's. She came beside him.

\- Not bad, count. Perhaps one day you will be able to beat a woman, she teased him.

\- If I can reach the same level as you, then I am sure I can compete against your brother and anyone in Frankia.

She humbly lowered her head, not breaking eye contact, and smiled.

\- If you'll excuse me, I have to take this shirt off. I think I oversweat, and now I am cold.

Geirlaug blushed. The only men she ever saw bare chested were her father and her brother. She quickly turned away, to Guillaume's own amusement.

While he was doing so, duke Guillaume came by his side.

\- Now, if you want, I would like to begin our training. I am aware that my sister must have exhausted you, but this will be good for you to improve on stamina.

The count nodded and took his blunt sword in his hand. Duke Guillaume did as his homonym. He took his shirt off despite the obvious danger of being wounded. Maybe it was to impress the count, Geirlaug didn't know. But what she knew for sure was that she particularly enjoyed the count's body. She could only see his back, but it was enough to bring her old fantasies back. Of course, he wasn't as muscular as her brother, but he still was finely shaped.

They began their fight, protected by their shields. This time, duke Guillaume showed no restraint. Every single blows was enough to make his opponent bend on his knees and step back. At first, the count only dodged the duke's sword, not being able to counter-attack. As he learned with Geirlaug, he diverted the sword with his shield. But the duke was too fast. As soon as his sword went in another direction he waved it back, trying to cut the count.

Count Guillaume never experienced such blows and such a fight. He was grateful duke Guillaume agreed to train him. He knew how to recognize a valuable training session, and the duke was a fine opponent. He had no doubt that he would progress more with him as a teacher than with anyone at court or in Aquitaine. He was tempted to look at Geirlaug for a moment, hoping that she would like what she was seeing, but the fight was so intense he couldn't help but focus on it.

Geirlaug was sitting under a tree. There, she could stare all she wanted. The count fought good. She even witnessed him attacking with his sword. She was sure her brother took pleasure in torturing the man a little. The two men's fight produced some loud sounds she was sure could be heard in Paris. She saw his body move, his muscles flexing under the weight of his sword. She bit her lips repressing a little moan. She knew it before, but she realized it now: the count was handsome. She loved how the fabric of his pants squeezed his butt, how his sweat made his muscles glisten, how his hair was moving and how strongly his hands were gripping the pommel of the sword. She desired him so much this instant. She felt like her desire would consume her. She knew that she could take pleasure to ride him. After all, two people in love had a chemistry that could make even the most disatrous sex formidable. She felt like he healed her. She loved him for that.

They fought for an hour before they fell out of exhaustion. Guillaume threw a piece of cloth to Guillaume. He wiped the sweat off his body and put it around his neck. He came to sit beside Geirlaug.

\- I hope you enjoyed the scene. Your brother really went hard on me.

\- I enjoyed it... Very much. And I am glad he was hard with you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had the occasion to see you like that, she said blushing.

Guillaume smiled. He was glad she reconnected with her sexuality. That only meant she was getting better.

\- How are the negociations with the king? Didn't you say that you asked to have your old title back? You know, to be called "duke of Aquitaine".

\- Ah yes. It was delayed due to Robert's crime and since then I had no news of the king. I asked for an audience with him, but he won't answer. I suppose I can sit on that hope. But the thing is, I promised my father to gain that title back. I cannot fail him.

\- You seems to have a strong sense of duty, my lord.

\- Especially toward my family and those I love. As do you. That is why, no matter what could ever happen to you, or your family, I will be there to help.

Geirlaug stopped smiling. Instead, she was brushing her hair nervously and looked down. Guillaume noticed her worried face and asked softly:

\- My love? What's wrong?

\- Oh nothing. There is just a problem I have to take care of.

\- Whatever it is, you can confide in me. You can trust me. I hope you know that.

\- This is... this is a delicate matter... I don't know if I can... this could lead to a political disaster.

\- Try me.

She explained everything. The counts' scheme, the threat upon her parents and their plan to marry her away to one of their sons. Fortunately, her brother was washing himself in the Seine, otherwise, he surely would have heard what she said. Guillaume's face went to surprise to disgust and finally, admiration.

\- So you are saying that this past month, you stopped an invasion on your own, discovered a scheme against your family, made alliances to prevent any further threats and kept spying on the counts? All of that while hanging out with me, being part of the court's life and fighting against Robert?

\- Pretty much, yes, she confessed.

Guillaume laid back on the trunk, impressed.

\- You are... truly amazing. Any man would be wise to have you as his wife.

\- I... I think... maybe. Thank you.

\- Thanks to you. Thank you for trusting me. If I can be of any help, tell me. My fiefdom is rich and large. If any harm had to come to your family and duchy, then I would do what is necessary to help.

\- What if you marry and it goes against your wife's family's interests?

\- Who said so? I am bound and determined to marry you. Your interests will be my interests.

\- So much determination in such a small body. Be careful, my love, too much emotions would make you explode, she teased him.

\- Did you jut call me "my love"?

\- What? no. I said "my lord".

\- You said "love".

\- I know what I said! I said "lord".

\- Sure, he chuckled.

Guillaume came back to them, smiling happily from seeing them so happy and said they had to come back to the palace for the midday feast. With a knowing smile, Geirlaug and Guillaume followed, happy to ride alongside each other.

* * *

After the feast, Geirlaug dragged her brother to find duke Hugues. It was time she did something about those two men. Of course, she knew Guillaume was defiant toward the man. After all he often talked about it with her. But Geirlaug trusted him. She thought he was less threatening and of better company than duke Herbert and Arnoul. At least, she didn't discover he wanted to invade and conquer Normannia. She didn't discover any clue of this and she knew how to uncover them. She trusted Hugues's wish to keep Frankia stable. After all, it was in his own interests as the duke of the Franks. A man's interests could always be trusted.

\- Duke Hugues, she called in the hallway.

The man turned around, puzzled.

\- Yes? What is it my lady?

\- I want to thank you again for what you did for me last week. I really appreciated your support.

\- This is nothing, my lady. You would have done the same for me, I am sure of that.

\- How is your wife? I hope she didn't believe what the courtiers said.

\- Do not worry, she stayed away from all of this. She tends to consider courtiers and rumors as stupid things.

\- A bright woman, your wife.

\- She is. What can I do for you… both?

\- My brother, here, doesn't trust you as much as I do...

\- Geirlaug, Guillaume objected.

\- Shut up! You know it's true, she said to her brother. That is why I've come to you, determined to build an prosperous alliance between our families. And to do that, I need my brother to be assured of your good intentions, she said to Hugues. Not that I put them in doubt, you can be sure of that.

\- I would never doubt you my lady. But I am saddened to hear that your brother mistrust me.

Guillaume looked away, frustrated and angry at his sister. She, who was so clever, she forgot that in court, keeping secrets could save some lives.

\- I can assure you, duke Guillaume that I only desire to be your friend and build a strong alliance between us. My only wish is Frankia's stability. I have no interest to have your duchy gone. After all, it is quite a rich and prosperous land that benefits to us all in Frankia. A civil war would only weaken the kingdom and thus, my power. Our interests converge. I also have a deep admiration toward your mother. She is a Frankish princess and a true heir to Charlemagne. My father pleadged loyalty to her and her father, as did I. I am very loyal to my friends and the king's family, family which you are part of. So, again, I am offended by what I just heard.

\- I am sorry I offended you, duke Hugues. Perhaps that prejudice from me was created by the words of some of my good friends here. The count Arnoul of Flanders and the count Herbert of Vermandois.

\- I've heard of them. I advise you to be careful, my lord. From their reputation, those men seems to have some shady plans for Frankia. There might be one day when those men would seek to take Normannia.

\- They are my friends. Like you, I am loyal to my friends. I will always give them the benefit of the doubt.

\- Very well, then. I am glad we had that discussion. Lady Geirlaug, I hope that when the time will come, we would get to unite our families with a wedding.

\- When the time will come, your grace, when the time will come, she smiled.

\- I will take my leave then, good day to you, your grace, your grace.

He bowed before them and then left in the hallways of the palace.

\- What were you thinking?

\- I was thinking about your interests, brother. And don't scold me when Sprota agrees with me! Ask her, she will tell you I am right to trust Hugues. He helped me when the courtiers pretended I had sex with him. You should be grateful. As am I.

Guillaume shook his head. But if Sprota, his beloved Sprota, was on Geirlaug's side, then maybe he should give a chance to Hugues. He trusted her more than anyone on this earth. He missed her. He missed her body, the scent of her hair, the shade of her eyes. She was his life and he couldn't find any woman better than her – and he reminded himself no to tell Geirlaug a word of this out of fear of her fury.

Perhaps Hugues was of good faith. Perhaps he did thought of his interests. But he had trouble believing that Count Arnoul and count Herbert might scheme against him. He did not want to.

* * *

Guillaume entered his bedchambers exhausted and tired. Every of his muscles ached from the afternoon training. Never had he trained like that. Of course, he was grateful toward the two children of duke Rollo to have help him progress and improve his fighting skills, but he felt he could use at least one hundred years of sleep and a large bath.

He walked to his chair with difficulties. His legs were heavier than his father's armor. He sat by the window, smelled the dry bouquet of wild flowers which never left his bed table and finally relaxed. He ordered a bath to be brought to him. He didn't very much like sweating.

In the meantime, he undertook to write a letter to Robert's mother. He owed her some condoleances. After all, she was almost as a second mother to him.

 _My lady_ , he began

_It is my unfortunate duty to inform you of the death of your son, Robert, following a trial by combat against Guillaume of Normannia. I am pained to add to your sorrow the reason he died. Robert tried to rape the very woman I was going to marry, Guillaume's sister. As you may have known, from your husband's attitude and the way he raised your son up to his death, Robert did not held a high opinion on women. To him they were only whores to put a dick in or hostages to bargain and ways to make political alliances. Adding to this the fact that he hated everything not truly Frankish. But despite his sins, a mass had been said and he had been buried outside the city in unholy land. Thus, I doubt he will ever reach Heaven._

_I strongly recommend you not to weep him too much. I know enough of his behavior toward you and your daughter to know he made you suffer. I wish to assure you that I shall find your daughter a suitable husband, from noble descent, kind and loving. And certainly not as violent as your late husband and your traitor of a son. As you may see, Robert is no longer my friend. But I pity you and in regard of all the affection I have for you and once had for him, I shall meet your expenses and provide for your needs until your daughter is married._

_You will forever be welcomed at my court, be assured of that. My mother could need a new lady-in-waiting in my father's sickness. That is why, by this letter, I recommend you to her. May God be with you, my lady, and with your daughter._

_With all my affection,_

_Count Guillaume of Poitiers._

He, then, sealed the letter and gave it to his errand boy. Then, he sat back on his chair and looked at the sky darkening. He watched as the summer sky took some orange, pink and red shading. It was beautiful. He wished Geirlaug was there with him to witness that. She would only add more beauty to the scene, if not outshadow it with hers. But Guillaume knew it would not be long until she knocked on his door and enter the room to spend the first part of the night with him. And truthfully, he couldn't wait.


	15. Chap15: A woman's work

Geirlaug enraged. Her brother still trusted the counts. She cursed his loyalty, for clearly, those men did not deserve it. Was she burdened with doing everything herself? She supposed so. After all, she was carrying her mother's legacy: doing the men's job from the shadows. That was the common way in Frankia, and her mother was the most admirable example of this. Perhaps the counts' wives were pulling the strings and manipulated their husbands as puppets. Though she highly doubted of that.

She tried to orchestrate in the shadows, but her brother's stubborness made all her efforts crumble down. She had to change her methods. So instead of following her mother's example, she chose to be as straightforward as her father. She had no doubt she had arguments against the counts in cas they tried to rebel against her. That was why she wrote Sprota to ask for some reinforcements. They arrived long after she sent her letter. She was afraid the counts might have been able to plan some new schemes. Yet, she was filled with hope. As soon as she saw the riders arriving, she went to greet them, afraid the soldiers of Paris might deny access to the city to her guests. The count came with her. He was curious to know what her strong norman lover's allies might look like. But as soon as they passed the gate, his face showed confusion. There were only three riders and all were women. He shot Geirlaug a questioning stare to which she answered by a mischievious smile.

The riders drew all eyes. The eldest inhabitants made the sign of the Cross on their bodies, recognizing the attributes of the northmen and a lot of them looked terrified by this sight alone. Geirlaug even saw some of them pray for salute. Her smile fell. She did not want her friends to be welcolmed like that. They deserved better for what they would bring to Frankia: peace and stability. To wish they were welcolmed as her father after his famous fight against King Ragnar Lothbrok, there was a step she did not wish to make, but still, the inhabitants should at least have minded their own buisness.

The three blonde haired women dismounted of their large norman horses and walked to Geirlaug and her companion. Geirlaug opened her arms and warmly hugged her friends.

\- Siggy, Angrboda I am so glad Sprota succeeded to reach you. How are you?

\- We are fine, Angrboda answered. We just came back from Wessex. We fought king Aelle. Again.

\- He still ask his daughter back. But uncle Sigurd is too enamored with Blaeja to give her back. Besides, she already gave him a son.

\- So they are married then, Geirlaug asked.

\- Yes. And I have words that she is as enamored with him as much as he is of her, Angrboda added.

\- This might not be of king Ragnar's taste. And I suppose Ivar wants to kill her, Geirlaug stated.

\- As do my father, well, did, Angrboda said. He hates christians. He would probably hate me for coming to your aid, not that I care.

\- Let his hate go. He'll deal with it, Siggy said angrily. He is too far away to care anyway. Daughters do not have to obey their father. Nor to follow their paths.

\- We follow our own path, Sprota said.

\- Exactly, Siggy added. Sprota told us what is happening. This is very considerate of you to protect your family. Very noble. Very christian, she winked.

\- Yes. But I decided that this time, I should be more direct. Like my father. Like a viking.

\- Like a shieldmaiden, Siggy said. Who is this, she asked waving her finger to Guillaume.

The women turned back to the count as he walked to his beloved's side.

\- What did she said, he asked Geirlaug.

\- She asked me who you were.

\- And who am I, he whipered tenderly in her neck.

\- An idiot who is tickeling me, she laughed. Siggy, Angrboda, Sprota, I present to you count Guillaume of Poitiers, a... friend of mine, she continued in Norse.

\- He is quite handsome, Angrboda said.

\- For a Frank. I'd rather have a muscular man, Siggy joked.

Sprota contented herself to smile. She was happy Geirlaug found a man able to make her laugh.

\- Speaking of which, are you going to be married to a prince soon? Aren't viking princesses supposed to wed a prince in order to conclude any alliances in the upcoming raid, Geirlaug asked.

\- I am no princess. I am shieldmaiden. I will not marry. I don't want to help my father whatsoever.

\- I understand.

\- But I will help you, Geirlaug Rollosdottir. You are the part of my family I like the most. I even like your mother. She showed several times that she was not afraid of us, vikings.

Geirlaug nodded. Guillaume bent to her and asked:

\- Why did she called you Rollosdottir?

\- It is a family name in norse culture. A man's children are carrying his name. Siggy is Bjornsdottir but she rejects that name because she hates her father. With good reasons.

\- Who are they, your friends?

\- Siggy is my cousin's daughter, Angrboda is her best friend and Sprota is Guillaume's betrothed. And a close friend of mine.

\- Closer than Sleipnir, he joked.

\- Shut up, she laughed.

\- What is this man saying? He spoke about Sleipnir. What does this christian know about Sleipnir, Siggy asked brutally.

\- Sleipnir is my horse's name. I also told him the stories you told me Angrboda.

\- I don't trust him, Siggy said menacingly her hand on her axe.

\- Why does she look at me like she is going to kill me, Guillaume asked?

\- We should go, Sprota cut them. Before anyone kills anybody.

\- Wait, she speaks Frankish too, Guillaume asked shocked. Nevermind, I should go too, I am awaited by the king. I asked an audience to negociate my title of duke. I will see you later, my love.

He lowered his head and kissed her in the neck, making her moan a little in the making. Sprota watched the scene eyes wide open in shock. Angrboda smiled and Siggy seemed slightly disgusted. When the count disappeared in the palace, Sprota rushed to Geirlaug a large smile on her face.

\- What was that? Did you finally embraced your feelings for him? Will you marry soon?

\- Perhaps... If my brother says yes of course. Guillaume wants to ask him as soon as possible.

\- Then it means your brother and I would get married soon, she joyfully said.

\- Yes. Now, let's get down to buisness. We have some men to crush.

\- Finally, Siggy said. I can't wait to scare some Franks.

* * *

Geirlaug had the counts convened in behalf of her brother. Of course he had no idea of it. She made sure he was busy while she talked with the counts. Her steps were sure and assured. She felt strong again and perhaps Sprota, Siggy and Angrboda's presence was the reason of it. She was hiding her two knives in her sleeves and held her head high as the proud daughter of Duke Rollo and Princess Gisla. That day, she chose a crimson dress, with large sleeves and a V-shaped collar. Her dress was long and her belt highlighted her waist. Sprota was wearing a long blue dress with narrow sleeves and a viking apron. On her belt she had tied a dagger her father offered her long ago. But Siggy and Angrboda were the one whose outfits were the most uncommon in the palace. Many people, servants and nobles turned around to this sight. Siggy was wearing her shieldmaiden outfit which was composed of a pair of linen pants, large boots, a short narrow-sleeved dress which skirt was cut to allow her to move better, a belt on which a sword and an axe were attached to, a large coat made of fur and a shield tied on her back. Angrboda, her, was wearing a short dress with large sleeves, a surdress with a hood lined with fur and a belt where bones and other magical amulets were tied on. Geirlaug even saw a few noble ladies step back from fear. She smirked. If only they knew what they could do, they would faint. She loved the sight of the courtiers being frightened. It made her feel better.

She entered her brother's private room and walked to the table. The counts – who had arrived long ago – stood up and bowed to her. Arnoul asked:

\- Where is your brother? He was supposed to meet us here minutes ago.

\- My brother won't come, count. You will be dealing with me.

She quickly nodded to Siggy, silently asking her to shut the door. She complied and locked every exits.

\- What does that mean, Herbert asked quite angry.

\- It wasn't my brother who asked you two to come here. It was me. I just thought we might need a little... talk.

She took one on her knive from her sleeve and then stuck it violently in the desk. Then, she glanced at the counts and smiled, sure of herself.

\- Now, let's talk buisness, shall we?

She sat on her brother's chair, facing the two counts frightened by the big knife she just screwed very deeply in the desk. They looked at her incredulous. She just smiled. Sprota came beside her, standing her hand on her dagger. Angrboda made circles around the counts mimicking her father to make a joke. Siggy stood on Geirlaug's other side and stared at the men with a menacing face. Geirlaug took her other knife out of her sleeve and began to play with it.

\- I've had words... that you two are plotting to take control of my father's lands. Is it true, she asked calmly.

\- I advise you to not lie, Sprota added menacingly.

\- How did you, Herbert began.

\- I have my sources. You shouldn't have let your maps exposed to any eyes. And should I add that walls have ears. You two are very loud when you talk about schemings. It wasn't complicated to know what you were up to.

\- But... but I thought you were...

\- A poor, harmless, naïve woman, she simpered. Awww how cute this is. You are the naïve one. You forgot that my mother is the princess Gisla of Frankia. And as such, she taught me everything a Frankish noble lady needs to know. How to read maps, for example, and how politics works.

\- You little BITCH, Arnoul spat.

He stood up brutally, hand on the pommel of his sword. As soon as he did that, Sprota unsheathed her dagger and Siggy, her sword. Geirlaug smiled to both and gave them a quick nod. They lowered their weapons, her hands still gripping its pommels strongly.

\- Ah ah, count, Geirlaug said waving her knife to him. I strongly recommand you to stay calm. My friends here do not have the same consideration for your lives as I do.

Arnoul sat back on his chair defiant toward the two warriors standing beside Geirlaug. He made an effort to regain his calm and then asked:

\- What do you want?

\- To talk, she simply said.

\- Of what?

\- Of one thing you should really take in consideration. If you ever came to kill my father and seize Normannia, then, the treaty he signed many years ago would be null. And, thus, nothing would prevent the northmen to raid. Particularly your counties. I suppose the forces of all the northern kingdoms would know of such an opportunity. With the right target, I am sure they would take a great pleasure to raid.

\- Are you saying that... I thought your father protected Frankia from those beast, he said staring at Siggy. Not helping and scheming with them.

\- He does protect Frankia. Better than any of you could ever do. And how well are you to talk about scheming! That's right, counts, I know everything there is to know about your dirty little plan. It was clever, really, to hire a berseker, but I am afraid my father killed him. After all, he is known to be the best warrior among all the vikings. And perhaps you could have succeeded to kill my brother during his trial by combat. Unfortunately for you, I watched his back this entire time.

\- Wait. Did you say they tried to kill my...

\- Yes Sprota. They tried. They hoped count Robert would kill him in combat.

Sprota burst out of laughters. It was comical. Those men clearly had no idea of how dangerous the children of Rollo, the famous wolf, were. If they had known, they would have been more careful. And less stupid.

\- What is she laughing about, Arnoul asked shooting Sprota a dark stare.

\- Nothing. Except, of course, the fact that you tried to kill the man who will become her husband. Speaking of which: I am deeply offended that you even considered to give me to one of your sons like a whore.

\- How did you, Herbert began to ask.

\- Walls have ears. I thought I told you that. Now, I advise you to stop scheming this instant and make no further attempt to take Normannia back from us. Otherwise, well, nothing would prevent attacks on your fiefdoms.

\- I will have your head for that! And those of your father and weak brother, Herbert shouted.

\- I frankly doubt that. You see, I am asking you this nicely. Otherwise I could also ask my friends here to kill you and your sons. You see, she is the daughter and niece to the kings of the northmen. She is also my niece. We share the same blood – not that she is happy about it - and family is very important in her culture. She is the leader of an army of heathens – no offenses Siggy – and is in good terms with the norwegian's army. What says that she won't seek revenge for my father's and brother's deaths?

\- What makes you think you would win against us?

\- The simple facts that my cousins' armies thrives for a place to raid. Sure it is not as prestigious as Byzance or Al Andalus, but there is enough men and women to sold as slaves and perhaps your castles holds invaluables treasures. Of course, our duchy would stay out of this. We do not want any diplomatic incident. But maybe, some rogue normans would join the raid. My father would decline any responsiblities, and he would have my mother's support and thus, instigate doubt in the king's mind. He always took our mother's advices very seriously.

\- And what of your brother. What if we kill him?

\- I thought of that too. The answer is simple, Sprota will kill you painfully, horribly. And her son would inherit the duchy.

\- You are bluffing! She clearly is not pregnant! She isn't even married to your brother!

\- In Normannia, we do things differently. Women do not have to be married before God to get pregnant. Actually, in my father's culture a marriage is often concluded after a pregnancy. Whatever you try to harm my brother, Sprota will be here to protect him.

\- We could as well say that she laid with other men, Arnoul suggested.

Geirlaug and Sprota exchanged a quick stare and then laughed.

\- Why not, Geirlaug said wiping off a tear from the corner of her eyes. But it would be vain words. When it comes to love, Guillaume is the most stubborn of us both. He considers Sprota as his own goddess. There is no chance he wouldn't give her the benefit of the doubt.

\- Then, we would have to come after you and discredit you to the eyes of the king and the court.

\- That could almost work, she said still playing with her knife. Almost. I endured so many bad words toward myself, I suffered so much from rumors, that I could barely feel a thing. See by yourself, she said showing the scar on her wrist. And I already assured myself the support of the duke of the Franks and the count of Poitiers. Guillaume's lands are larger than your counties and our duchy united. He is very rich and powerful. He told me he had a large army and would put it at my disposal if I needed it. As did duke Hugues. We promised each other an alliance between our families. So, to tell the truth, my lords, you are more alone than me at this court. The duke has a great influence on our king and so does my mother.

\- Then, we must kill those men and blame you for it.

\- On what pretext? Count Guillaume will one day become my husband and duke Hugues will be part of my family. I consider those men as my friends. Moreover, If you ever were to kill them, I wouldn't count on your survival. Angrboda, despite her will to heal people, knows a lot about poisons. And Siggy can compete against any man. Even my father.

\- What are you saying?

\- I am saying that if you don't back off and leave my family and our duchy alone, I will find you and I will kill you.

\- But... But... This is blackmail!

\- Yes it is. Why are you implying this as a bad thing?

\- It shows only weakness!

\- Weakness? Didn't I just make you bend down to me? How is it weakness, my lord?

\- I would call that Checkmate, Sprota added.

\- I had treaties written, she said showing them two parchments. It just miss your signature on it.

\- We will NEVER sign such a thing! This is such a shame for a noble man to have his behaviour dictated by a woman. And especially a bastard whore!

Geirlaug sighed and put her head in her hand.

\- Siggy, she said. You can do it.

The young shieldmaiden grinned and quickly came behind the counts. She put the blade of her sword on Arnoul's neck and the blade of her axe on Herbert's jugular. Sprota held her dagger tight and Angrboda came to sit on the desk, two quills in her hand and Geirlaug stuck her second knife in her brother's desk.

\- I will not ask a second time, Geirlaug said more menacing than ever. Sign!

\- You will go in Hell for that!

\- Hel, Angrboda asked puzzled.

\- It is a christian place for the afterlife, she explained.

Angrboda nodded. She didn't understand christians. Why use a Goddess's name as a place to go in the afterlife. Weren't they supposed to reject anything that had to do with the norse gods?

The counts reluctantly took the quills Angrboda was holding and then, signed the parchments. Sprota took them.

\- They will be safe with my father, she said in Norse.

\- Very well, then. My lords, consider this discussion over, for good, she said in Frankish taking her knives in her hands.

\- We will seek revenge, Arnoul menaced her.

\- Oh I have no doubt of that. But not now. You can leave, she said showing the door.

\- One day, when you won't be watching, we will kill your brother! You can be sure of that, Herbert added.

\- Good bye, counts, Geirlaug coldly said.

\- And don't spend too much time with my Guillaume, or you'll have to face my dagger, Sprota added.

Siggy stepped back to let the counts leave. They put their hands on the pommels of their swords but stopped when they saw Siggy's face. They instinctively knew they wouldn't last three minutes facing the woman. They got out of the room and slammed the door, furious that their perfect plan failed because of four women.

Geirlaug sat back on the chair. The talk drained all her energy out of her body. Yet, she smiled with satisfaction. She was proud she was able to stand up against such powerful men. She was proud of herself to have been able to do a man's job. She smiled to her friends. They did it.

\- I am sorry for the trouble I've put you in, she apologized to Angrboda and Siggy.

\- Don't be, Angrboda said with a calm voice. We would do anything for family and friends.

\- You were quite the badass, Siggy said with admiration. You took power immediately. You would have made a good shieldmaiden.

\- I prefer to leave you that title, Geirlaug said, after all, you are a far better warrior than myself.

\- You may not fight with material weapons, but you have others at your disposal. You are a warrior no matter what you might say.

\- Aren't you afraid they might still come after your brother, Angrboda asked.

\- That is a risk they will not be willing to take. Not if they care for their lives and those of their family. I will show no mercy to anyone who tries to hurt the people I care about and take what is rightfully mine.

\- Me neither, Sprota added. They will face my wrath if they try to do anything to my duke.

\- Which one, Geirlaug mischieviously asked.

Sprota blushed.

\- Well, before we leave that city and all it's inhabitants, do you know of a place where we could drink, Siggy asked. All this talking made me thirsty for ale.


	16. Chap16: A father's shadow

Count Guillaume of Poitiers paced up and down behind the door of the throne room. It seemed to him that he waited for his audience with the king for an eternity. He wondered what might keep the king busy. Maybe some important matter such as the vikings raids. Though he doubted that, considering Duke Rollo was protecting the realm from their assaults. Or maybe was it some feudal quarrells, which was not surprising. In Frankia every noble schemed to outdo his neighbor, crush him and take his land. Only the most powerful lords could administrate their fiefdoms peacefully and not be bothered by another noble man. Yet, again, it seemed that only Duke Rollo was an exception to this rule. For he enlarged the part of Frankia the late king Charles granted him. Guillaume had words that the Duke conquered a large part of what was part of the duchy of Brittany. But as it was an independent duchy, the ruler of this part of Frankia couldn't ask the king for help. It seemed to Guillaume that Rollo conquered this part of his lands wisely.

Of course, his own father, Ebles Manzer seemed to respect the old Duke. After all, he fought against him once and he knew his father held his opponents in high esteem. His father was far more honorable than he was. Guillaume was not a great warrior. Nor a great conqueror. To think his father and grandfather fought against the vikings and how their exploits were sung during the feasts in Aquitaine, he felt jealousy and shame tarnish his heart. He was just a courtier, wooing too many women, enjoying the pleasure of life, the pomp of the court and horse-riding when he felt the need to. In truth, the only noble activity he liked was reading. Of course he knew that his father disapproved of this. How many times did he try to teach him how to fight. How many time did he sternly ask him to be worthy of his prestigious ancestors. How many times did Guillaume felt crushed by his father's ambitions for him.

With the years, Guillaume slowly detached himself from his father and his neverending demands and constant deception and became closer to his mother with whom he could talk about philosophy, litterature and religion. She was deeply devout and they had the most interesting talks. Of course, he learned the art of politics from his father, for he was more experienced on the subject, but he often found wise advices from his mother. She played the card of diplomacy so well and he had no doubt that it was her that kept peace in the county and within his father's heart. It was, for Guillaume, a relief to know that his mother loved him for what he was.

Yet, he felt he had a duty to his family, to follow his father's wishes and go claim the title of duke to the king in Paris. And he intended to prove to his father that he was worthy of his affection by bringing back the age-old title. That was why he went to Paris, joined by his closest and childhood friend, count Robert, a vassal of his father. He most definitely did not expect to meet a woman worth his attention there. And even less to fall in love with her. Her simple name was enough for him to feel dizzy. To think he fell in love with the daughter of a viking, one of the people his grandfather hated and fought against, there was something laughable. But she was also the daughter of the princess Gisla, the daughter of the man his father grew up with. Perhaps his father would approve of this wedding, if Guillaume dared to ask Geirlaug's hand in marriage again.

He knew his homonym still resented him for being that blind toward his former friend. Of course, he had noted he hated everyone that wasn't purely Frankish and that he had a terrible opinion about women. He considered them as the source of all sins. Guillaume knew his mother never approved of his bigotry and wished she had had time to teach him the true meaning of the Scriptures. His mother knew. She was clever enough to recognize the true words of Christ behind the text. Even if Guillaume grew up with Robert, there was things only a priest or a mother could teach. Even if a woman of higher rank and wealth knew more than such people.

Thinking about his family, his failure and his father's constant disapproval made him shed a tear. He cried out of anger but out of shame too. And he was not afraid of being seen that way by anyone at court. Their words could not even be harsher than the words his father often had for him. All his confidence and easygoing attitude was for him an armor to protect himself from his ancestors' shadow. He doubted he could even outdo them, but with Geirlaug's brother's help, he might as well come to their level.

Again he thought of his beloved Geirlaug. He wondered if everything was fine for her inside her brother's private room. He could easily imagine the verbal fight she had with the scheming counts. This tore him a warm smile full of affection. He pictured her, sitting on the chair, playing with her knives, sure of herself with her friends around her to support her. Nevertheless, he was worried this might take all the energy she had left. She was still fragile and recovering from the destruction she attempted on herself.

Guillaume was sad to see her that weak, for he knew her strong. But with a woman able of the greatest extremes, that wasn't really surprising. Hopefully, he would be able to help her tame her temper. For her sake.

He kept smiling, thinking of her and took one of his many rings in his fingers and played with it. It was given to him by his mother at the same time he lost his virginity. He remembered it pretty well. He chuckled. He was such an inexperimented man at the time. His lovemaking had been disastrous and even if he took a little pleasure in the making, he highly doubted his partner felt any of this feeling. The woman he laid with wasn't a whore. She was merely older than him and was a commoner. A peasant. Her parents were working in the stables and took care of the animals their masters would eat. She was kind, loving and calm. She had a cat with which she loved to play. It was the first time Guillaume fell in love. He tried to court her as he saw his father do with his mother. He often offered her gifts despite the threat of her being accused of robbery. Then, they had sex and when his mother found out, she casted them away from the palace and scolded her son way harsher than his father did. This was a wrecking for the young teenager he was. He wondered if she was fine. If she found a husband to marry and was happy. He wished she was happy. She deserved it.

That was the first time he loved. She had been her first everything, though he recalled he had a crush on a little girl when he was still a child. Those memories were blurry and he only recalled the little girl hiding behind an imposing giant. He recalled her brown hair and glowing eyes. He knew he met her on a trip his mother did. But he did not know where, nor when. He was too young for that. But he knew there had been a lot of other boys there. He remembered how they played in the dirt and the white walls surrounding them.

He loved so many women. Some only biblically, some more deeply. His heart was as changing as the colours of the sky, but he knew that when he truly loved someone, he could stay with her forever. And that was the case with Geirlaug. Never had he loved a woman so deeply. Or violently. He wanted her and everything she might have touched. He felt he would never grow tired of her jokes and her sight.

And for once in his life, he wasn't afraid of what his father might say about him. She made him forget and forgive every words he had to him. Sure, hers were harsh, but she also showed she could love and appreciate him for who he was. She wasn't demanding, she was asking.

Suddenly, he heard angry footsteps echoing across the hallway. He put his ring back on his finger and hid behind a pillar. Why he had done it? He didn't know. But he sure did not want to be seen. Especially when he heard the voices of the men walking.

\- Arnoul and Herbert, he whispered. What on Earth?

The counts did not hide their anger and their rage. Arnoul's face was red and Herbert seemed about to explode.

\- How could we counter-attack?

\- We cannot. The norman bitch has us trapped. We signed.

\- Under pressure. Surely the king would...

\- He would do nothing. They have the princess Gisla on their side. No Herbert, we can do nothing. But I found a way to make her victory more bitter.

\- Tell.

\- That blonde will marry the heir of the old duke. She is carrying his heir, fine. But this children was conceived out of marriage. So, according to our laws, he cannot inherit his father's title. And even if he did, we would tell the king and he shall have him disowned. Perhaps he will even take him as a hostage. I suggest we make him marry one of our daughters and then, we would have a claim on the duchy.

\- But the blonde is betrothed to Guillaume. She said so herself. And the boy loves her deeply.

\- Sure. But you and me know that this will be a pagan ceremony. Nothing serious. The boy is christian, he will value a christian marriage more. As I don't have any daughters, I suggest yours marry him.

\- I should give my daughter to a bastard? Come come my lord! It is unthinkable! Even if he is a christian, he remains the son of a viking, a barbarian. And his mother is no better. Her husband poisoned her mind and spreaded venom in her. He corrupted her so that she forget who she was and her faith. And I should give my daughter to the fruit of such follies?

\- You will do it, my lord. For the sake of Frankia.

\- Very well, then. I only hope that your son will avenge my daughter one day.

\- He will. I swear it to you.

\- I am sure the boy will agree. After all, he is so blind he didn't even noticed his sister – a _woman_ – protected him this whole time.

\- You are right my friend. He won't even object.

Both burst out of laughter and disappeared in the dark hallways. Count Guillaume was panting. He had listen their conversation very carefully and held his breathe so they would not notice him. Geirlaug would have been proud of him. After all, it was her who was the best spy. Either he was as good as her or the counts needed to reappraise their scheming techniques.

He would make sure to inform Geirlaug of all of this. They might not be betrothed to one another, but he knew his heart desired to follow her interests. And he most definitely didn't want his sick father to fight another war. This would kill him and Guillaume didn't feel ready to suceed him yet. He was not worthy of the fiefdom. At least, not yet. His brother would have known how to rule. He was clever. He was strong. But Guillaume had the misfortune of being the first born. Thus, he inherited the title and his brother followed the tradition and became a man of God.

Guillaume was not his father. He was not a great warrior. But he was clever and had a strategist mind. And for now, his mind told him that in order to protect his lands, he had to follow his lady Geirlaug's plan.

Again, he heard people joyfully chatting in the hallways. He recognized the tone of women's voices. One of them belonged to Geirlaug. She clearly was talking with her norse friends for he didn't recognize the words they were using. Once they passed him, Geirlaug noticed him and walked toward the place where he was standing, smiling happily. Guillaume smiled back but worry was hidden behind it. She noticed and asked:

\- Is there something wrong?

\- I fear so, yes. And it concern Sprota, he said looking at her.

Sprota's face darkened. Taking this as a sign to keep talking, Guillaume sighed and spoke again.

\- Herbert and Arnoul crossed my path earlier and they spoke badly of you. All of you. I suppose that for a noble frankish man, having his behavior told by a woman other than his mother, is degrading. I hid of course, but those two are not very discrete. They spoke loudly. They disparaged Guillaume and then, they talked about marrying Herbert's daughter to him to have better claim and control over the duchy. I fear that he might accept.

\- Yes, Sprota calmly said. Guillaume loves me but his loyalty is beyond the loves he feels for me. He is too trusting and too kind.

\- This stupid brat doesn't follow my advices, Geirlaug bitterly said. All of this will end badly.

\- I believe so. But in case of their treachery, you must be assured – both of you – that I will help you and put my army at your disposal. Well, at least, I will convince my father to do so. If he is still alive.

\- Thank you count, Sprota gently said. If I recall, your father fought ours.

\- Yes.

\- He is a great warrior. You must be proud to be his son.

\- He is. I am proud to be his son, yes, but he isn't as proud as I am. I would rather say that he hates me.

\- Then, you have something in common with Siggy, Geirlaug said smiling to the shieldmaiden.

Siggy shot her an interrogative look to which Geirlaug answered by an explaination of what Guillaume said. She nodded and then spoke some harsh words on an angry tone.

\- What did she say?

\- She said that her father and mother abandoned her and that she is an orphan. She is a princess, you know. The grand-daughter of king Ragnar, Geirlaug said.

\- Like the princess you told me about? Awilda?

\- Yes, Geirlaug smiled. Like Awilda. But she says that she does not consider herself as a royal since her father abandoned and rejected her.

\- I know how it feels. I am sorry, Guillaume said in Norse.

Siggy and Angrboda gasped out of surprise. Angrboda turned to Geirlaug. She smiled proudly to her friends.

\- He speaks our language?

\- Some words, yes. He wanted to learn, she said with pride and affection.

Angrboda smiled to him. Siggy looked at the count as if she rediscovered the man. Maybe christian folks were not all that bad, she thought. Maybe they could respect their culture as well as the normans. Siggy stepped forward, anger leaving her eyes.

\- Thank you.

Guillaume nodded, still impressed by the warrior in front of him. Then, her voice softened and she asked him:

\- Did you find a way to get rid of this? The anger, the resentment?

Geirlaug translated. Guillaume's face darkened and lost his usual smirk. He frowned, seeming about to cry. Finally, he raised his head to her. She was tall. Taller than him.

\- I suppose, it never really goes away. But I learnt to focus on myself. My father's shadow will never leave me but I can raise myself to see the sun. You have to stop caring at some point and a man have to stop listening to his father when he is grown. You have to find something you father's shadow has never touched. Then, your father's shadow will fade and perhaps you will find peace. Find someone or something which will make you feel loved, desired and important.

On these words, his voice softened and he looked at Geirlaug with adoration. The young lady blushed and smiled to him. Sprota seemed satisfied with the answer and translated to Siggy. Angrboda turned to her and smiled to her with affection. For the first time in many years, anger left Siggy, replaced by hope. She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder.

\- Thank you christian. You are a good man.

\- Siggy never compliment a man. Even less a christian. You are a lucky, count, Angrboda said.

After Sprota translated, Guillaume smiled then chuckled.

\- I am pleased then, that such a great warrior find widsom in my words. I thank you with all my heart.

Sprota translated again and Siggy blushed. An unusual thing for the shieldmaiden. Geirlaug took the count's hand and put her head on his shoulder, nesting in his arms. She giggled at Siggy's face.

\- You have a way with words, my dear. I never saw Siggy that moved.

\- Thank you, your grace, Guillaume tenderly said.

Angrboda pushed Siggy with her elbow smiling. Sprota turned to the count.

\- How was your audience with the king, my lord ?

\- I am afraid it has not begun yet. The king seems busy with some important matter. Military perhaps. If I am correct, the south of frankia keeps being attacked by Saracens. It is said they raid as violently and cruelly as the Vikings.

\- Ah, yes, king Bjorn fought some of them last summer. What was your audience about, again?

\- I came to ask the king to give my family its title of Duke of Aquitaine back. It is a task my father gave me. And should I fail, I will never be able to look at him in the eyes again.

\- I see... Did you meet with the duke of the Franks and the royal chancellery?

\- I did, lady Sprota. But my request was denied every time. So I figured I should ask the king directly. But it seems he doesn't want to give me satisfaction. I suppose he fears his power would be diminished if my family regained its title. It would mean being more independent and losing some power and wealth.

\- Yes. I know your county is prosperous. Indeed, that would be a great loss for him, Sprota noted. But the king is still young. There may be a time when he will accept your request. For now I think he wants to insure his power's stability after the coup.

\- I did not know you such a strategist, my lady, Guillaume said impressed.

\- I learnt from the best, she answered looking at Geirlaug.

\- You flatter me, Sprota. But you know my mother is better.

Sprota gently smiled to her. Finally the door of the throne room opened letting some ministers come out. Guillaume and the lady beside him bowed respectfully. Even Siggy and Angrboda though their bows were rather clumsy. They clearly were not used to the ways of the court. Guillaume supposed the court of the viking king was drastically different than the frankish one.

Once the ministers gone, Guillaume headed to the door, his heart full of hope and determination. He knew his wealth was beyond measures. He could easily afford to dress himself in fine silks. But his father placed rank higher than any other things. Guillaume knew he wanted to prove himself as the true heir of his father, and not a bastard born from a concubine. That was why he wanted the title so badly. Apparently, he had more in common with his father than he thought. What a cruel irony.

Before he entered the room, he turned to Geirlaug. His face was hesitant and for once, he released himself from his armor.

\- Will you attend Vespers tonight, he asked with a desperate tone.

\- I am afraid not. Siggy and Angrboda insist to visit the city and train. They also desires to drink and tell stories around the fireplace.

\- Oh, well. I see you tomorrow then.

\- You seem disappointed. What is wrong?

\- Nothing. I just wanted to be with you.

\- You can. You can come with us tonight. I know you like our language and our stories. Why wouldn't you come?

\- Because I need to talk to God tonight. And besides, I wouldn't want to interrupt you all to ask for translation, he said smiling.

\- I understand. If you want, we can pray tomorrow morning in the chapel. I would love to hear you sing.

Guillaume smiled, then took her hand. He kissed it reverently and finally entered the room. He asked God to bring him strength and breathed heavily. He had to succeed. For his family and his father. He had to be the one succeeding. He had to prove himself worthy of his county.

He bowed to the king and adressed him his usual pleading. This time, it would work.


	17. Chap17: Stories to tell by the fireplace

The sky was dark when Sprota, Siggy, Angrboda and Geirlaug lit a fire on a shore of the Seine. They were far enough from Paris not to be spotted by any courtier or citizen, and close enough not to be attacked by wolves or thieves. Thus, Geirlaug was perfectly relaxed. She was with her best friends and they had the whole night in front of them. The night was fresh, the sky brightened by stars and religious songs could be heard if one paid attention. The fire where all the women were sitting around was warm which pleased them and dried their clothes, wet with the air of the night. Siggy was carrying some casks of mead, Angrboda brought cider, and Sprota a barrel full of hydromel her breton mother made.

\- So, will you sleep in the palace, Geirlaug asked sitting on a trunk.

\- No, Angrboda said. We were not invited here. We are Northwomen, I doubt the nobles at the palace would welcome us. I think your uncle would have to kick us out.

Geirlaug lowered her face, saddened to know her friends would be judged harsher than she was.

\- Tell me, Sprota said, how did you two first met each other?

\- You tell the story Boda. I am not as good as you, Siggy said smiling to her friend.

Angrboda eased herself on the trunk she was sitting onto and then began to talk, her hair brightened by the fire and her eyes glowing in the light. She looked so much like her mother this instant someone could have mistake one for the other despite their age difference.

\- As you know, Siggy wasn't raised by her parents. Her mother left soon after her birth and her father never took care of her. She was handed to princess Aslaug to take care of her education. But no servants wanted to take care of a rejected child. During her first years, she was only liked by her uncle Sigurd. He often gave her food when she didn't have any. When she was seven, she decided she had enough and left Aslaug's house, though she never resented her for her bad treatment. She knew Aslaug was really busy with ruling the kingdom and raising Ivar on her own. Sig survived on her own. She took the habit of fighting with boys and stealing food from animals. Siggy was even taken care of by a pack of wolves.

\- Amazing, Geirlaug said eyes brightened with fascination.

\- It was at that time I found her. She was inside the carcass of a deer, eating whatever meat there was to eat. She looked like a savage and was wearing only poor rags. I took pity on her. At first, she did not want me to approach her. But I put my cloak around her, brought her home to my mother and we ate some bread with honey. I remember it was delicious. Then, my mother took care of her and we spent the rest of our childhood together.

\- And how did she become such a great shieldmaiden, Sprota asked.

Siggy grinned. It was good when someone acknowledged she was a good shieldmaiden. Perhaps one day, her fame would outdo her father's.

\- She fought with stray boys, mostly. I can't count the number of times I found her covered with blood – whether it was her own or not – wounds on her face and bruises across her body. I spent so much time healing her and this little reckless wolf kept messing with my work, Angrboda said hitting her friend's arm.

\- Ouch! Hey, that was their fault! They had to be nicer with me, Siggy protested.

\- Oh yes. Not that you started all the fights you were involved into.

\- I don't know what you're talking about.

\- Yeah, sure. Now, where was I? Oh yes. The training. When she was about thirteen years old, Sig finally began a training in swordsmanship and learned how to wield an axe and fight with a shield. She was strong. Very strong. She was so strong she progressed quicker than Lagertha at her age.

\- Boda!

\- What? You know it is true!

\- I am not Lagertha! I will never be! She is far more powerful than I am. And more loved, she said bitter.

\- Say what you want, Sig, but you are you. And the truth is you are an amazing shieldmaiden worthy of your lineage in your own right. As for no one loving you, I do.

\- So do I, Geirlaug said. You truly are a daughter of Odin.

\- Thank you, both of you.

\- Who was your teacher, Sprota asked.

\- Men. I trained with uncle Sigurd and Guthrum. Then, when the time had come, I joined my uncles Sigurd and Ivar to several raids and learned more on the battlefield. My knowledge of fighting comes mostly by experience.

\- This is truly amazing. You remind me of those shieldmaiden whose stories are told by the fireplace, Sprota said.

\- Speaking of which, I wanted to share a story like that with you, Angrboda said. I really feel like telling stories tonight.

Angrboda began her story under the fascinated eyes of her hearers. Geirlaug looked thrilled to hear a new story, and Sprota smiled gently, happy to learn more about her father's culture.

\- It is a story about a legendary shieldmaiden named Brunhildr. Aslaug's mother. She was a valkyrie, daughter of a legendary king. She had a valkyrie sister too. Cursed to a magical sleep and held captive behind a wall of flames by the all-father Odin because she disobeyed him, it is said only a man who does not know fear, or who can bring him the gold of the dragon Fafnir could free her. Sigurd killed the dragon and some titmice told him where the valkyrie was and to deliver her. He crossed the wall of flames, cut her armor which made her sleep and when she woke up she taught him wisdom, secrets and advices. They promised to one another to marry one day.

\- How romantic, Geirlaug whispered.

\- But, Angrboda smiled at Geirlaug, even though Sigurd was madly in love with her, Brunhildr predicted he would break his promise and marry another. Sigurd offered her a golden ring as a proof of his oath and left. The daughter of a king from Germany named Gudrun came to find her one day, saying she had terrible nightmares. You see, Brunhildr was known to be a sorceress and she was famous for her wisdom. The valkyrie helped the princess but predicted her that she would marry Sigurd. Well guess what? She was right. Gudrun's mother used magic against Sigurd to make him lose his memory and for him to marry her daughter because at that time, Sigurd was known to be a hero and a great warrior. Then, Sigurd became friend with Gudrun's brothers including Gunarr. The idea is said that Gunarr shall marry Brunhildr. But the fire surrounding the valkyrie's home was still there and she said that only a man able to cross it will be allowed to marry her. The horses of the brothers could not cross the flames. Gunarr, then, exchanged his body with Sigurd and went to ask her hand in marriage under Gunarr's appearance. He was able to cross the flames. Brunhildr reluctantly accepted to marry him. Sigurd slept three nights in her bed. He took back the golden ring he once gave her and gave her another from Fafnir's treasure. During the wedding ceremony, after Sigurd regained his body, his memory came back to him. But Brunhildr was already pregnant with Aslaug, Sigurd's daughter. She handed the child to her adoptive father...

\- Yes, who would care for a child, Siggy muttered with bitterness.

\- She handed the child to her adoptive father Heimir, Angrboda said looking at Siggy angry she cut her in her story, and left with her husband. Gudrun explained, some time later that it was not Gunarr who conquered her, but Sigurd, using as a proof the golden ring he took from her. Sigurd confirmed once again that he loves her and regained his memory. Offended by this treason, Brunhildr demanded that Gunarr, Gudrun and the son she gave Sigurd be burnt alive. Gunarr's brother decided to kill the hero. Before he died, Sigurd confessed the reason of his death is the love he had for the valkyrie to his wife. Brunhildr, mad with sorrow, laughed at Sigurd's death and killed herself by piercing her heart with her sword. She asked for servants to be dressed in gold and be burned with her, Sigurd, his murderer and Sigurd's three years old son.

\- And what about Aslaug? What does she become, Sprota asked.

\- Heimar, for her safety, built a harp so tall and so big so that the child could hide in it. She never knew her parents and she spent most of her life wandering. She was raised in poverty, fear, and in secret until she assembled her own army of shieldmaiden to protect her. Then, one day, she met Ragnar Lothbrok and he betrayed Lagertha by having sex with her. She came back to him, pregnant with Ubbe. Ragnar married her and Lagertha divorced him.

\- Father often says that Ragnar can't keep it in his pants, Geirlaug noted.

\- Didn't your father have sex with plenty of women in his youth, Siggy asked.

\- Yes. But that was before he met mother. He often said to us that ever since he crossed her eyes, he lost sight of every other women.

\- Your mother must be an incredible sorceress, then, to have bewitched a man such as your father, Angrboda laughed.

\- Oh dear, if she had heard you, she would have had a heart attack, Geirlaug joked. For a christian, being called a sorcerer is worse than excommunication. This is a terrible accusation that could lead someone to the stake.

\- You christians are weird. Why would you fear and hate something as extraordinary as magic? I don't understand, Angrboda said.

\- Everything that does not bear the mark of God is a sin according to the ministers of God. Besides, they think all women are evil because of Eve who ate the forbidden fruit and thus cast out mankind out of Paradise.

\- Yes. Really weird. If that is the stories told during your mass, you must be bored.

\- We know other stories too, Geirlaug protested. For instance, Guillaume told me a story similar to the tales of shieldmaidens. He heard it from a Greek merchant.

\- Do tell, Siggy said.

\- This is a story of a woman named Atalante. She was a Greek princess and lived many centuries ago. Her father rejected her and left her when she was a child because he didn't want a daughter.

\- Funny, that reminds me of someone, Siggy ironized.

\- Siggy, Angrboda reprimanded her.

The shieldmaiden crossed her arms and nodded to Geirlaug as a sign for her to continue her story.

\- That princess was granted by her gods the gift to run faster than any other being. She was taken by a bear when she was a baby and was raised in the forest. She became a very skilled huntress. Then, when she reached the age of her first blood, hunters found her and raised her. She hunted a mythical boar and wore its skin afterwards. She took oath of virginity and killed every single one of her pretendants. Eventually, she sailed away with a group of adventurers and found her place with the Amazons.

\- Who are the Amazons, Angrboda asked.

\- They were a people composed only by women and they were all warriors. Sort of like the valkyries.

\- I would have loved to live with such women. We would have fought and drank. This would have been amazing. I'd like to sail to Greece and learn more about them, Siggy said.

\- One day, when we'll have a crew of our own, we could sail there, Angrboda said with excitement.

\- Yes. But not at the same time as king Bjorn. I don't want to cross his path in the Mediterranean Sea.

\- And first, you have a quest to fulfill if I remember correctly, Angrboda said.

Siggy nodded. Geirlaug and Sprota looked at each other, puzzled.

\- What quest, Sprota asked.

\- Nothing, Siggy said. It is just that I heard rumors about a mysterious female berserker who lives in northern Sweden.

\- Tell us more, Geirlaug asked the shieldmaiden.

\- According to what I know, she assembled an army of berserkers and is feared and respected among them. She supposedly lives deep in the forest and it is said that she killed many beasts and could compete against Fenrir himself. It is said she killed an army on her own in a rage that would have make even the gods fear her. Yet, despite all those exploits her very existence is debated and many claims that this is just a legend such as the old sagas.

\- Why is a female berserker so rare, Geirlaug asked.

\- Women usually become shieldmaiden when they want to be warriors. Being a berserker, as you may know it, is to become half beast. Women are not bestial enough to be one. And they usually don't want to. So for a woman to enter in such a state she becomes a beast, she must be very fierce and powerful. I also heard people compare her to the goddess Hel, Loki's daughter.

\- Why, Sprota asked.

\- It is said that half her face is beyond beautiful and the other half bears an enormous scar. People also say that when she enter in berserker state, her eyes becomes red. According to the rumors she is not dead nor really alive. I wonder what could have happened to her for her to have such a scar on her face.

\- Maybe she fought when she was young, Angrboda said. This warrior is like a ghost. No one ever saw her and those who did died right away. There are still people in the village she rescued who saw what she looked like and spread her exploits. They are the only ones who can approach her without being killed.

\- And there are more and more berserkers who joins her army. They all are appealed by her fame and reputation. Even Lagertha is worried. She provokes an excessive amount of fear in the heart of her enemies and is almost worshipped as a minor goddess, and you know Lagertha is not the kind to not worry about future threats. I am sure she suspect her to want to steal her earldom.

\- But she won't, isn't it right, Geirlaug asked.

\- No one is sure why she is assembling this army. Some pretends it is to fight for Ragnarok, and some pretends she is thirsty for revenge against a king who betrayed her. But no one knows for sure.

\- This is worrying indeed, Geirlaug said. This adds to the list of threats we already face.

\- I don't think you Franks have to worry about it. You are far away from the problem, Angrboda said. On the other hand, Kattegat and the other northern kingdoms are on the front line. Not that we care about it.

\- Why, Sprota asked again.

\- Because my mother and father left two year ago without even saying goodbye. My father went to explore some lands far North and my mother, as always, followed him. My father said I made him too happy and left me. He doesn't like happiness I suppose. That is why I do not care. With my mother away, I don't have anyone left in Kattegat to worry about.

Siggy gave her a sympathetic stare and hugged her friend tight. She knew how rejection felt. Both had been rejected by their fathers and it was time for them to leave them behind and follow their own path, just as Guillaume, Geirlaug's wooer, said. They only had one another and they had to support each other no matter what.

\- My quest is to find that woman and know her intentions. Perhaps fight with her to test my abilities and to know if she truly is a goddess. If that is the case, I'll stay with her to fight in her army. But if it is not the case, then I'll sail South and find these Amazons you told me about, Siggy said with a grin.

\- You know, I am pretty sure they are long gone now, Gerlaug said. That was centuries ago.

\- Oh, well, I will at least see the Middle East, Siggy laughed. It will not be all for nothing.

\- And you'll probably gain a few more scars, Geirlaug noted. You seem to have more scars than when we last met.

Siggy was about to laugh when she crossed Angrboda's angry eyes. She immediately lowered her head and hid a grin caused by her amusement at Angrboda's displeasure. Obviously, as a healer, she didn't like her friend to mess her work up.

\- Yes. I gained...

Angrboda turned her head at her angrily.

\- I got, she said highlighting the last word to please her friend, them on the battlefield when we were raiding in Wessex with Uncle Sigurd. I also have some on my butt which I got when I was in Ireland last year. I still can't explain how I got hit there. It is a mystery.

\- It took me one hour to fix it! Your butt never had been so much spoiled and touched. It was in a state that made be choke out of anger, Angrboda said to Geirlaug.

\- Why? Was is that bad?

\- Oh yes! I didn't talk to her for a day after that. Honestly, I wish she would respect my work and be wounded less. But she is so reckless I know this won't happen anytime soon.

\- You know me too well Boda, Siggy said while gulping her mead.

Angrboda shot her a sarcastic grin and took Geirlaug's arm in her hand.

\- Speaking of which, how did you get those, she asked pointing to the two scars on her arm.

\- The first was made by a wolf who bit me. I healed it immediately. Count Guillaume was with me and he almost hurled. That was hilarious, she said in a smirk. He was afraid a scar would reduce my beauty. As if!

\- A wolf bite? You, the daughter of the famous wolf? Well, that is certainly hilarious, Siggy said.

Geirlaug smiled at the shieldmaiden. Truth be told, that was indeed hilarious.

\- And the other one, well, I made it myself.

\- What do you mean, Sprota said with a worried look.

\- One night I went to the Seine to cut my wrists and kill myself, Geirlaug said in a sigh.

\- Why, Sprota asked her eyes filled with tears.

\- Because of the courtiers. They kept spreading rumors about me after Robert attempted to... And I could not bear it. I was so tired I wanted all of this to end. That is why I decided to commit suicide in such a dramatic way. I wanted to make them all guilty. But Guillaume found me, he kept me warm and entertained. He allowed me to rest on his shoulder and ever since, I didn't make any more attempts even though I still want to sometimes.

\- Oh Geirlaug, Sprota said with a saddened voice.

She took her in her arms and hugged her tight. She was soon imitated by Angrboda and Siggy pat her back. Sprota made sure to pass onto her all the affection she felt for the woman who would later become her sister-in-law. She loved Geirlaug like a sister and she felt she had a duty to protect her. Without even realizing it, Geirlaug began to cry, thankful for her friends' affection and comfort. They were so kind with her.

\- Thank you, she said between two sobs. You are the best friends a woman can have.

\- Your wound healed well, Angrboda said. But the scar...

\- Is inevitable, yes I know. Guillaume told me to wear it like a battle scar and I think he is right.

\- I think so too, Sprota said. He is a wise man. How did my Guillaume react?

\- He was as saddened as you. But I reassured him the best I could. I can still see that he is worried when he looks at me.

\- Of course he is. He is your brother, Sprota said.

\- You are a great warrior Geirlaug Rollosdottir. Even without a shield or a sword, Siggy said. I already said it and I'll say it again, your bravery makes you the pride of your ancestors.

\- Thank you Siggy. You too are the pride of your ancestors. I hope one day king Bjorn will be able to see it.

\- Then I hope he will regret not having me, for I will never come back at him and will forever avoid his path. I shall overshadow him so that when he'll look around him, he will only see in the dark.

Geirlaug smiled and looked down. She turned to Sprota.

\- We should come back to the palace. It is already late and I have to attend the lauds tomorrow. I promised Guillaume.

\- I agree. I am beginning to be tired. Our journey was exhausting.

Geirlaug nodded. She looked at Siggy and Angrboda, saddened they would not get to sleep in the palace. The two Northwomen smiled at her and hugged them tight to bid them a good night.

\- We will come back tomorrow. I want to ride with you and show you around.

\- See you tomorrow then, Angrboda said. Have a good night.

\- Thank you.

The group split itself in half. Geirlaug and Sprota headed to the palace leaving Siggy and Angrboda pitching a tent and taking care of their horses.

The night was fresh but Geirlaug still felt warmth in her thanks to the fire and her friends' presence. When they finally entered the walls of Paris, they were welcomed by the songs sung in the cathedral. Geirlaug smiled, thinking that, perhaps, one of those voices belonged to Guillaume.


	18. Chap18: The envoy of Wessex

Geirlaug stood by the window of her bedchambers, looking at the city and wondering. She wondered if she made the right choice by confronting the counts. She was afraid she blew her brother's chances at inheriting the duchy in peace. The counts now might seek to spread chaos and to produce a civil war among the normans. This would give them a chance to take her father's lands, title and riches. Just when she thought she would be safe, she was consumed by doubts. It was in such moments she wished count Guillaume were here with her. Comforting her and stroking her hair.

Siggy and Angrboda left a few days after the confrontation with the counts. Geirlaug was told that the vikings would raid again. They spent the winter and the beginning of Spring in Normannia, training, resting and planning their next moves. The first days of summer were a perfect period to set sail to new horizons. Geirlaug had words that some of the northmen would raid far south, in the Mediterranean sea, to try to conquer some cities made of marble after king Bjorn's failure. Geirlaug saw this as a lost cause. She knew the Arabs and the Romans were stronger than the vikings in the south. They were used to hot temperature and the northern warriors were not. Besides, from what her mother taught her, Arabs already succeeded to invade large countries and kingdoms as it was the case in Spain. The only reason why they didn't conquer Paris was because one of her ancestor stopped them in Poitiers. She felt proud of this.

Siggy and Angrboda, instead of joining the southern raids, stayed with the other part of the vikings who would raid in England and Ireland again. They said it was better for them not to go too far so that they kept an eye on how things were going in Frankia, and especially, with the two scheming counts. Geirlaug almost cried when they told her so. She was so grateful for their commitment. Before they left, Siggy told her that they were family, and that even though she hated her father, she was glad to have this other side of her family. Geirlaug knew the shieldmaiden wasn't keen on showing her feelings, so she contented herself to smile and say Goodbye to her. Geirlaug would miss them. She had enjoyed the moments they spent together. And the conversations they had in Norse made her feel home, which was always welcomed.

Fortunately, Sprota stayed in Paris and now shared her brother's bedchambers, which had made Geirlaug move to another room of the castle, though she spent most of her nights in the count's bedchambers, talking and napping. He had a way of telling stories that she loved. His calm voice usually made her relaxed and comfortable. Yet, she tried to avoid spending her nights with him as much as she could. She did not wish to be the center of rumors ever again.

Count Guillaume, after his disastrous audience with the king, began to court her even more. Geirlaug knew he needed her support, which she granted with tenderness. He decided to take his time to ask her hand in marriage again. After all, he knew Guillaume was still wary of him after all that happened. Yet, as he told Geirlaug, he still held the dream that he might say yes. So, instead, he tried to spent as much time as he could with the young lady. When she was with Siggy, Angrboda and Sprota, he tried to get glimpses of their conversations and asked her to teach him some words, which she did. Every night she spent with him began with a lesson and the count learnt quite quickly. Sometimes, he told her legends of his country and sang songs to her. The language he used was new to Geirlaug. Never had she heard such a tongue. But it was beautiful and pleased her ears. He had a way to sing that bewitched her. Often she closed her eyes under the sound of his soft voice.

She was suddenly dragged out of her tender thoughts by Sprota. She was wearing a Frankish dress instead of her viking apron, and to tell the truth, Geirlaug found her beautiful. Her hair was still braided in multiple braids but she wore a splendid necklace, a long blue dress with long sleeves and a golden belt. Geirlaug suspected her brother to have faint when he saw her dressed like that. She turned to her and walked, smiling to her.

\- You are ravishing Sprota. You look like the wife of a duke, she teased her.

\- Thanks, Sprota shyly said. The others are waiting for us. There is a feast and the envoy of Wessex just arrived.

\- Prince Aethelred? I thought he was supposed to arrive tomorrow.

\- So did I, but apparently he planned his travel here would be longer.

\- Bloody Saxons, Geirlaug grunted. Give me one minute to adjust my dress.

\- There is no time for this. Come with me.

Geirlaug followed Sprota reluctantly. While they were walking she continued to talk to her.

\- Who is prince Aethelred again?

\- He is the son of Aethelwulf of Wessex, king Ecbert's son, and princess Judith of Northumbria.

\- Isn't she the princess whose ear was cut because she comitted adultery, Geirlaug asked.

\- She is. Didn't Gisla told you of it?

\- No. perhaps I forgot, or wasn't listening to her when she told me that story, Geirlaug wondered.

\- I think it's the second option, Sprota gently joked. So apparently, he is in charge of Wessex's diplomacy while his brother, Alfred is ruling.

\- Alfred. Rumors says that he had been blessed by the Pope himself. I suppose he isn't very happy with this new kingdom and the Danelaw that appeared in northern England.

\- What kingdom, Sprota asked puzzled.

\- The kingdom of York. It was founded by my cousins a long time ago. Didn't Guillaume told you of it?

\- Well, we mostly spend or time doing... well...

\- I know, Geirlaug laughed. This is the main reason behing my change of bedchambers.

\- I know of a second one, Sprota teased her back.

Geirlaug blushed and then smiled widely. She was happy Sprota approved the count as being worthy of her. She knew how high her friend's opinion about her was.

\- Do you know why the prince came here, Geirlaug asked.

\- Maybe he wants to entrust an alliance of some sort. Maybe he came to talk about the latest raids. I suppose he is acting for Wessex's best interests.

\- What about ours? Can't we value our own interests too? Why would we want an alliance with Wessex? They are known to invade and agressively take kingdoms.

\- You really are as patriotic as your mother, Geirlaug. I suppose she would be proud to hear you talking about Frankia's interests.

\- I want to preserve my family and what is ours, that is all, the young lady said.

Sprota simply smiled at this last sentence. She was glad Geirlaug looked after her interests too. She knew women had to stick together, and at this Frankish court where she knew no one and was an outcast, she was happy Geirlaug, her best friend, was here. Together, they felt stronger than ever.

* * *

They arrived in the dining room just in time to watch the king and the prince enter the room. Sprota sat beside her betrothed while Geirlaug sat beside the count of Poitiers who tenderly smiled to her. Geirlaug looked at him and the diverted her eyes from him, smiling like she was holding a secret.

The king raised his arms and blessed the feast. Geirlaug and Guillaume jointed hands to pray but Sprota stayed silent and didn't move. When it was done, the meals began to be served.

\- Welcome here, prince Aethelred, son of Aethelwulf. I hope this feast will please you. We hunted a deer and a boar especially for you, the king said.

\- Thank you, your highness. My grandfather, may God rest his soul, was really respectful of your family. And especially your great-grandfather, the great Charlemagne. I am happy you welcomed me so graciously. I have yet to apologize for my early arrival.

\- You don't have to, prince. It had been forgiven as soon as you put your feets on the ground of Frankia.

Geirlaug hesitated to roll her eyes. Those curtesy words seemed so vain to her. Now she understood why her mother loved her father. He was straight forward and for a woman who spend her life at Paris's court, surrounded by people who used indirect ways, that must have been refreshing. Fortunately for her and all the guests gathered in the dining room, the courteousnesses, soon finished. Finally, they could eat. Geirlaug was starving. So was count Guillaume. They exchanged a few glances from time to time while Sprota watched them with a mischievious smile on her face.

\- I heard that you went to visit the Pope a while ago, the king said to the prince. Was your trip safe?

\- It was, we just had trouble with the count of Arles. He wouldn't let us pass if we didn't free ourselves from a tax. But we managed to pass through the county. Thanks to God. But we suffered from the presence of some Saracens. It seems that the Moors are more... civilized. Indeed the passage through Provence raised some difficulties.

\- Sure. I understand that with many independent lands, crossing Frankia might not be easy.

\- On this matter, you'll be relieved to know that Italy is far worse than Frankia. All those intependent cities coupled with independent kingdoms, we had to make tremendous efforts not to be involved in any quarrel between them.

\- I suppose you filled your chests with some refined Byzantine merchandise. I've heard they rule several cities and that merchants are very present in the marketplaces of Rome.

\- Indeed, we found there, exotic perfumes, spices, jewels and other dishes from some foreign lands. I bought my mother some jewels, perfumes and also silks. She is the finest dressed lady in Wessex, he said with pride.

\- Speaking of which, how is your father? If I remember correctly, it was him who welcomed my mother in his villa, when the family of count Odo overthroned my father. I never thanked him for this.

\- Do not worry, he kept a very good memory of yourself. He is aging rather well. He led our army and defeated a heathen army this month. I suppose it is the season where they come out of their lair, he said looking at Geirlaug and Guillaume. We also have to fight this pagan kingdom of York more and more. This year has been tough. Apparently, they decided to conquer more lands. And you know my father, he isn't keen on giving lands to pagans.

Geirlaug chuckled. The prince turned to her angrily while the nobles in the room stared at her with disdain.

\- Does my kingdom's peril amuse you, he asked without any delicacy.

\- Forgive me, your highness, but the peril you are talking about seems, to me, very overrated. Don't misinterpret my words, I am happy your father is protecting your kingdom, for I know how it feels to be threatened by invaders, she said looking at Arnoul and Herbert. Still, from what I know, your father once burnt and killed an entire northman village in the name of God. A village created in good faith by your grandfather, king Ecbert and my uncle, king Ragnar. Of course, you know that this incident led to a war between your family and my cousins. This is how the kingdom of York was created. So, forgive me, my prince, for laughing about this cruel irony.

\- May I remind you, your grace, of your father's implictation in all those raids, Aethelred asked.

\- What do you mean?

\- What I mean is that if your father didn't welcome heathens, then, perhaps, my kingdom would be at peace.

\- Indeed, but you shouldn't deny your responsibility in all your misery.

The prince contented himself to stare at her badly. Apparently, he did not appreciate being questioned by a norman woman. Count Guillaume hid a smile, Sprota looked proud and Guillaume shot his sister a warning look to which she answered by a shrug.

\- Don't you have a word to say, your highness, on the behaviour of some of your nobles, the prince asked.

\- I am afraid I don't. You see, I only possess a small part of Frankia. My nobles' fiefdoms are rather independent. I am their sovereign, but my dukes and counts have a rank which equals the rank of a prince. This is the way we do things in Frankia. I may have been raised in Wessex, I still know how a Frankish king rule. My sister have been of a great support in the matter. She sent me many letters when I was away, telling me how things work in case I would regain my father's throne. I often told my sister words on her husband's behavior toward the northmen, but she always told me that he did that in accordance with Frankia's interests. I am sure you understand this principle.

Counts Herbert and Arnoul exchanged a stare. Geirlaug smiled, thinking her mother was extraordinary. She would have shut the prince's mouth if she had been there.

\- Pardon my words, your highness, but your father was weak. To have let his own noblemen take so much influence and power, surely he...

Geirlaug slammed her hand on the table violently. She would not bear someone to talk badly of her family. She knew how much her mother loved her father, and in her name, she would fight anyone who would dare to diss on her grandfather.

\- That's why, she practically yelled, my mother had to be strong. To hold the realm altogether. She patiently did a job her father and noblemen were not able to do. She ruled fiercely and confronted the heathen army on the walls of Paris. She stood on this wall, encouraging the soldiers with the banner of Saint Denis. We do not take after our grandfather. And the king is my mother's brother. The same blood and the same courage flows in their veins. Our family is strong. We resisted to the heathens better than you did.

Her voice was shaking with anger. Count Guillaume looked at her tenderly and put his hand on hers. She was gripping her knife with suck strength, her ankles became white. He whispered something to her and she started to breathe to calm herself.

\- My lady, I assumed you knew your place, but apparently I was wrong, Aethelred said.

\- My sister, Guillaume paused a moment, knows exactly her place. She is the niece of the king and is allowed to speak freely, even if what she says might come to a diplomatic incident. As the children of the princess Gisla and the great Rollo, we ought to be shown some repect. And especially from a person with the same rank as ours.

\- The same rank as yours? Really, Aethelred ironised. All their family are queens and kings and them, they are just the children of a duke, he mocked to the whole court. How does it make you the same rank as I?

The king stayed stoical fearing to create a diplomatic incident, but it was obvious that he would have prefered his niece to have kept silence regarding his person. He did not need to be defended by a woman. Guillaume clutched his fists. He was furious and about to punch someone. Sprota immediately put her hand on his and caressed his forarm gently. She smiled to him and he answered by a kiss on her forehead. Everything, in the way he looked at her, showed unconditional love. His breathing became calmer.

\- My lord, she calmly said. It should be noted that the duchy of Normannia's wealth highly outruns your kingdom's. The duke has the same privileges, the same responsiblities and a territory as large as yours. Now, tell me again how you are of a higher rank than them. Is it because your father was prince Aethelwulf of Wessex? What a coincidence, the children of Rollo are also the children of the princess Gisla of Frankia. Not to mention she was a direct descendant of Charlemagne, the man your grandfather considered as the greatest and most noble king that ever existed. Should I also remind you that your grandfather was a king when theirs was an emperor? And I will not even dare to insult you by talking about your mother, we all know what happened to her, and we heard rumors about your brother's true parentage. I merely wonder if you don't feel cheated. After all, you should be the king. Am I right? Of course, these matters don't concern me. What concerns me is that you insulted the man who will soon become my husband. And thus, you insulted me. That I can not forgive.

Aethelred shot her a death stare. Sprota held his stare quietly, yet proudly. Geirlaug held a giggle in her mouth while duke Guillaume looked at her like a goddess. The king was nervous. He feared a diplomatic incident, and God knew the relations between Wessex and Frankia weren't good. The king hoped it would get better with time.

\- Prince Aethelred, please tell me what important matter brings you in Frankia, the king asked nervously.

\- We really suffered from the last raids in Wessex. Those heathen, as you know, take shelter in the duchy of Normannia during winter and in between two raids. Thus, they become untouchables. We cannot prevail against them in such conditions. That is why, my brother Alfred had an idea that, I am sure, will solve our problem. He suggested to make an alliance between Wessex and Frankia. More specifically, with the duchy of Normannia.

Geirlaug felt like someone just splashed her with ice-cold water. It descended in her spine and the back of her ears began to be cold. She turned her face in horror to the prince, and then turned to count Guillaume, tears in her eyes. His face showed nothing but fear and sadness. As if something he held precious was just being taken away from him.

\- My brother wishes to marry Geirlaug, daughter of Gisla and Rollo of Normannia. He was told a lot about her beauty, and now, I realize that apparently, those rumors were true. She would be the jewel on the crown of Wessex. Of course, she'll have to work on her attitude.

Geirlaug looked at her brother with begging eyes. Count Guillaume clentched his fists angrily. He was shaking with rage. Not only did the king of Wessex wanted to marry his beloved norman, but the worst part in this was that he wanted to change her and use her only as a tool and basically as an object. He felt insulted. She was worth so much more than that. She was smart, strong, brave. She was everything a man could be, but more noble. She was caring, loving, joyful. Sure he understood how precious she was, but her talents would go to waste in such a court.

Geirlaug stood up. She was holding her table knife without really realizing it and her entire body was shaking with anger. Yet, she tried to remain calm.

\- I am pleased with the interest your brother has in my person, yet, in behalf of myself and my father, I have to decline.

\- You don't have your word to say, your grace, Aethelred noted. Besides, I already sent envoys to your father. I have no doubt he...

\- Maybe I didn't make myself clear, she said menacingly. My answer is no. Just as my father's. He insisted, and our mother agrees with him, to not let us marry princes or princesses. So you'll understand he won't give your brother – and especially him, who fought his nephews – satisfaction. Moreover, I serves my family's interests, and I don't think it's compatible with yours. I cannot marry a man who does not respect my culture, my duchy and my family. I hope king Alfred will understand it.

\- I agree with my sister, Guillaume said with the same tone. Your demand is denied. I am afraid your trip here is useless.

\- Come come, nephew, the king said. Didn't you tell me that you came here to find a spouse for her?

\- I did. But my mother insists that my sister marries someone from Frankia. On this, she was perfectly clear.

\- I see... I cannot go against my sister, unfortunately.

\- What of my family's interest? Are you that selfish to refuse such an offer? My brother would make a good suitor. He is young, handsome and he...

\- I said NO !

Geirlaug stuck her table knife in the table. Her bursting turned every face to her. She was afraid she exposed herself to the whole court, but she didn't care. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were burning with anger. Sprota looked at her impressed and Guillaume stepped back a little. Count Guillaume, on the other hand, smiled happily. He knew that with that event, the proposal would be over. Saxons didn't quite appreciate such women at court.

\- Very well, Aethelred reluctantly said. But I do not lose hope to unite our families one day. And to maintain peace between our countries.

Geirlaug nodded, and so did Guillaume. The fairest lady of Frankia sat back on her chair and wiped one tear off of her eye. As soon as she did, count Guillaume bended to her ear and whispered tenderly:

\- Why, my lady, you really need to be tamed.

His hand roammed her upper leg under the table. Geirlaug smiled and held a little moan. She bent to him and whispered back:

\- And, you, my lord, need a woman to calm you down.

\- I don't want this woman to be anyone else but you.


	19. Chap19: Guillaume's proposal

Rumors were circulating about her again. But this time, it was different. This time, it wasn't about her being a whore who slept with the entire court. This time, it was about her being the most dangerous and deadly woman at court. Sure, she would have prefered people to step back respectfully, but fear was good too. She believed she had already proved her worth way too many times. She knew who she was and what she was worth. She had nothing to prove, and especially not to people she considered stupid and kind of hated further to her suicide attempt. Besides, with Sprota, her brother and count Guillaume by her side, she felt unstoppable.

The prince left soon after the feast, disappointed. Of course, Geirlaug apologized to him, as a good Christian noble lady. After all, she did not want her uncle to suffer a bad relationship with Wessex. And more than anything, she wanted to avoid a war. It would not benefit any side of her family whatsoever. Yet, she felt totally relieved. Marrying a man she never met and didn't love seemed a poor option compared to marrying a man she knew and loved. Moreover she thought that he had a positive impact on her. She felt calmer and more at ease with him than with any man in the country – and that included her brother.

Count Guillaume, after prince Aethelred's proposal, awoke and finally decided that it was time to ask for her hand in marriage again. He did not wish to lose her. He wanted to be betrothed to her as soon as possible to avoid being threatened by other suitors. Of course, he knew she loved him. She made it very clear. But he would resent himself for a lifetime if he missed any occasion. That was why he came in her brother's office at least once a day to ask for her hand in marriage. He begged, bargained, and offered tremendous amounts of money to achieve his deepest wish. He was so determined that he almost forgot the mission his father gave him. Geirlaug often reminded him of it and asked if things were going well for him. But the king didn't bend to his favor and continuously denied his request to be made duke. So, in the meantime, he spent his day with Geirlaug, courting her and exchanging glances.

Their nights became more passionate. They could not help but to touch each other at any occasion. It was merely tender caresses but it was enough to make Geirlaug guilty. After all, she was taught her behaviour was sinning all her life. Yet, count Guillaume had the gift to make her feel good about it. He made her feel safe and always told her that it was not sinning according to him since they were going to marry one day or another. Besides, he added, it was him the most sinful of them both. All the women he laid with were proof of it. It made her happy that he considered her innocent of what she thought was sin. She was grateful for his simple presence in the palace.

Sprota played a great part in Guillaume's proposal. Geirlaug asked her many times to convince her brother to accept. She desperately wanted to marry him. She loved him and she did not want to spend her life with any other man. Prince Aethelred's offer made her realize it. She did not want to lose count Guillaume. She already decided that he was hers and she was his.

* * *

Ever since she arrived in Paris and exposed herself to the eyes of the courtiers by standing beside Guillaume of Normannia in any occasions, Sprota became the target of the noble ladies' disdain and hatred. Geirlaug hated this of course. Every time noble ladies looked at Sprota with piercing eyes, she shot them a stare which frightened them. Geirlaug was happy they were scared. At least, they left her alone. Being the target of mean words was one thing, but when it was your best friend, your sister, who was a target, it was unforgivable. Not even Christ would have forgive.

One day, they went walking in the gardens and heading to the training yard. This day, Sprota fully understood why Geirlaug had been weakened by her stay in Paris.

\- The linen production had been good this year. I have no doubt your father's chests will be full very soon, Sprota said while walking.

\- Yes. But we need to improve our output of wool. It is important that our people are kept warm during Winter.

\- I agree.

\- Do you have news from Magreth? I forgot to tell her goodbye when I left, Geirlaug said recalling one of her childhood friends.

\- She is well, Sprota said smiling tenderly. She married a Northman. A jewel maker. She gave him their first child two days before I left. A baby girl.

\- I should adress her congratulations then. Perhaps offer her a gift of some sort. How is her father?

\- The blacksmith? He passed away last month. I guess his excessive drinking killed him.

\- I still have trouble to picture how Magreth and her mother survived with such an alcoholic at home.

\- Well, it certainly has something to do with the candles she makes.

\- Yes. Mother loves them. She especially enjoy their fragrance.

Suddenly, a small group of ladies appeared in front of them. They looked at Sprota and Geirlaug and after what might have been a joke, they laughed. Geirlaug shot them a death stare. How dared these women from lower condition insult the future wife of a duke?

As they walked to their direction, Geirlaug moved closer to Sprota to show her support. The women kept silent, a mocking smirk distorting their faces. When they crossed their paths, it was then, that Geirlaug heard the insults.

\- Whore

\- Witch

\- Bastard

\- Heathen

\- Pagan

\- Parvenu

\- Bitch

\- Cow

Once their litany of insults finished, they quietly walked to the entrance of the palace, laughing with cruelty. Geirlaug instantly turned to Sprota, worried she might feel bad. But to her surprise, Sprota smiled.

\- Aren't you hurt by their words, Geirlaug asked.

\- No. Their insults were pretty poor. In fact, they should be the one to be hurt. Their stupidity is now established and I now know for sure they are not as highly educated as you and me. They can talk, I don't care. Their words are meaningless. Actually, I pity them.

\- Why?

\- It must be so tiresome and sad to have such a poor intelligence and such low activities as spitting insults all day. They really must be bored if they have nothing better to do. I wish they would find something to get their nonsense out of their heads. That is all.

\- Aren't you at least offended?

\- If I had to be offended by any bad word made on me, I would have had my ears removed long ago, she casually said. I let it slip. It is better this way.

\- You are so wise Sprota. So calm. I wish I was as wise and calm as you are someday.

\- You will Geirlaug, Sprota said laughing. Do not worry, it will come soon enough.

Geirlaug smiled back to her, happy to know Sprota so strong. To jealousy and envy, Sprota answered with intelligence and widsom. Truly Geirlaug was glad she would marry her brother.

* * *

Geirlaug and Sprota decided to walk in the city, among its people. They were to visit the sick and the poor as good noble ladies. Gisla often told her daughter that this was a lady and a good christian woman's duty. So, Geirlaug followed her mother's advice as the good christian she was. Sprota only came with her because she liked to hang out with her and because, as the future wife of a duke, she had to behave as such, and be seen by the people of Paris. Yet, despite her lack of faith in God and her pagan beliefs, she couldn't help but admire Geirlaug's devotion to the poor and the sick. She walked with her filled by joy. She was with her friend and both were chatting happily in the cobbled streets of Paris, among the merchants and other beggers.

\- I still can't believe you agreed to come with me. Ever since you arrived here, you spent all your time with my brother.

\- I wanted to stay with him today too, but he said he was busy and that I would only distract him.

\- I can guess why, Geirlaug teased her. You can't be talking all the time, so I suppose you need some _physical_ activity.

Sprota blushed. Geirlaug saw straight in her. It was true she and Guillaume had sex many times since she came back in Paris. But there were some times when they just laid on their bed, only listening to silence and the noise of the city. She loved those moments. They were tender and she wished they never ends.

\- What buisness did my brother had to take care of for not wanting you there, distacting him?

\- He said it had something to do with Herbert and Arnoul. Perhaps they'll try to make him marry one of their daughters instead of me. But I know my Guillaume. He loves me just as I love him. There is no way he would say yes to them. Or perhaps he will, but he will not care much about the girl.

\- Arnoul and Herbert... I need to be careful with them. I am sure they'll try to prevent an alliance with Aquitaine. I know my Guillaume can defend himself rather well, but I still fear for him, Geirlaug sadly said.

\- This is what loving someone feels like, I am afraid. But don't fear. I trust Siggy and Angrboda are watching very carefully our backs. The counts will do nothing if they care for their lives.

\- This is why I want to get married as soon as possible. I want to feel safe and to make an alliance with Aquitaine.

\- Are you aware that you'll have to spend your whole life with count Guillaume? Aren't you bothered by that?

\- I'll gladly spend my entire life with a man with such an ass, Geirlaug said without thinking.

Sprota froze for a minute, eyes wide opened, waiting for Geirlaug to realize what she just said. The words finally hit her and she began to blush heavily. She was completely red. She began to wave her arms trying to make her friend forget what she said.

\- I mean... this... this is not... this is... Oh my God! Did I just said...

\- That you liked count Guillaume's body very much. Which is kind of understandable.

\- This is so bad. Every time I think about him, I feel like I am sinning. And sin is bad. This is lechery. I am such a bad christian woman!

\- Why, Sprota asked puzzled.

\- Because! I am supposed to stay pure and free from those kind of thoughts. But every time I am with Guillaume, I can't help thinking about that. Of course, I've tried to repress them, but my struggles have no effect. I still desire him. Every time he open his mouth, ride on his horse or look at me with his deep, dark, lustful eyes, I can't help but feel dizzy and jump on him to kiss him... or worse. He raises my desire and sex apetite like no other.

Sprota laughed.

\- What, Geirlaug asked hurt.

\- Nothing. It is just that this kind of attitude is perfectly normal for a woman. You may be christian, you remain a woman. You have needs, the same as men's.

\- But I am not married to him, she objected.

\- Yet, Sprota finished. I am working on this.

\- What is Guillaume's opinion on this? Did he warmed a little to Guillaume, again? Or is it desperate?

\- I talked to him many time in your Guillaume's favor. Yet, I fear that this is not working very well. Your brother keeps telling me of how he resent him for what his friend did to you. He asks for a better proof of his affection to you.

\- He makes me happy, what better proof is there? It's to wonder if he really wants me to marry someone! For Christ sake! That was his mission! He was supposed to find a spouse for me, and now that the perfect candidate is there, he does nothing! I knew I shouldn't have hit him that much when we were kids.

\- I think he wants you to marry the count. He knows and saw how much you enjoy being with him. But I think he wants it to be public. I think he wants him to show everyone at court that you are worthy of the best suitors, and that the count of Poitiers proposing and begging for your hand would be a good way to do so. He wants to show everyone of how wonderful you are.

\- What a pain! I want to get married. The faster the better!

\- Aren't you afraid of losing your freedom by marrying the count? I know noble ladies have to marry, but this seems a little bit... well, unlike you.

\- I don't think so. I think it will be different. My mother found freedom in her marriage to my father, so why not me? Besides, the count already promised me that we would be equals and that he'll respect my advices no matter what. I think I may be free while being married. I don't consider marriage as a prison. Not anymore.

\- You have grown so much, Sprota sighed. I am happy of that. If, by any chance, your Guillaume realizes that he'll have to propose in front of the entire court, then that only means that I'll get to marry mine.

\- I want you both happy, Sprota. You deserve it. I am sure your children will build great things.

Sprota blushed while smiling. She didn't say it to anyone yet, but she might be with child. She gently touched her belly and rubbed her thumb on the fabric of her dress. Geirlaug noticed and smiled widely.

\- Is it true, she asked. Are you...

\- Yes, Sprota whipered tenderly. I didn't tell him yet. It has been a week or two since I knew. This is very recent.

\- I am sure it will be a boy! It has to be a boy. I will be an aunt, she smiled. This is the best news of the week. I just have to marry Guillaume and then, you and my brother can do likewise and my nephew will be legitimate. Oh Sprota, I am so happy for you both! Will you marry at church?

\- Didn't I already tell you? We decided to marry _more danico_. To please my father and yours.

\- Forgive me, I forgot with all the thing that were going on lately in Paris.

\- The baby says you are forgiven, Sprota said her hand on her belly.

Geirlaug laughed. Both stopped as they stood in front of the hospital's door. It was a large and heavy door made of wod and carved with representations of the bible. When they entered they couldn't help but admire the roman architecture of the room. The ceiling was high and was supported by pillars and vaults. Yet, despite the beauty of the place, it was tarnished by the smell. It was horrible. Geirlaug covered her nose to not smell the blood, visceras and other fluids coming out of all the sick people in there. Of course, she had seen worse on the battlefield. She was used to it. Yet, it was too much for her. This time, it wasn't on a battlefield. This time it was in a dark room in the middle of a fortified city. Geirlaug immediately looked at Sprota, and asked her if she wasn't afraid for her health with her eyes. Sprota shook her head and reassured her with a smile.

They talked with a few people and with some nuns and monks who were taking care of them. Apparently a new disease made its appearance with the arrival of some pilgrims on their way back from Rome. But so far it wasn't that contagious and it was rather harmless. That didn't make Geirlaug feel better in any case. She realized she was lucky to live at the palace, where she was safe and free of such troubles. Thus, she gave a purse full of money to the nuns and the monks for their good work. She hoped that with it they would be able to provide for the needs of more sick people. They only stayed for less than two hours but it was enough for them to feel the need to escape this stinky place.

When they got out they bumped into the duke of the Franks, walking to the hospital.

\- Duke Hugues! Really I have the gift of bumping into you, Geirlaug joked.

\- It's nothing, your grace. Besides, I love your conversation. It is always interesting. Have you taken care of our... little problem?

\- Yes. You will be happy to know that they won't do anything against Normannia and Frankia. I put forward some... strong arguments. Sprota, here, helped a lot. And the news she just told me about will definitely secure our duchy.

\- Sprota, do I pronounce it correctly, Hugues asked to the blonde.

\- Yes, your grace, Sprota said bowing a little.

\- I have heard that you were Guillaume of Normannia's bethrothed. Is it true?

\- Yes. I am.

\- I am pleased with his choice. Lady Geirlaug often told me that you were a remarkable woman. And by what I saw of you when Aethelred of Wessex came here, you seems to be strong and fearless. It is truly refreshing to witness a woman stand for her soon-to-be husband and his family's interests. And especially to a prince. And you said it with such calm... I admire that. I have no doubt that you'll be an amazing duchess.

\- Thank you, your grace. Those words means a lot to me. I am deeply sorry that Guillaume doesn't trust you enough. After all, you watched his back against Arnoul and Herbert. And you offered your help so nicely when Geirlaug had to go against them. Not to mention your kindness when those rumors hit her. I am so thankful for that.

\- This was nothing, my dear. I only worked for my interests. But I have to say that I have a great admiration for duke Rollo and his wife. He managed to repel the northmen and she ruled the kingdome in her father's shadow. What better proof of their devotion to Frankia than this? This is why I desire, more than anything to build a long-lasting alliance between our family. Yours included.

\- I am honored by your proposition. I hope I will succeed to get Guillaume out of the counts' influence and convince him to accept you as a friend. I too think that our families should be friends. And I hope that whatever happens to me or my children, you would rescue them from any perils.

\- I pomise, lady Sprota, that I will. You can rely on me on that matter. But I would rather want no harm to come onto you or your husband. I wish for your safety. Both of you. And I hope Guillaume and I will build a strong friendship.

\- You have mine. And Geirlaug's.

\- I am filled with joy, then. What greater honor than being friend with such women?

\- Were you on your way to visit the sick at the hospital, Geirlaug asked.

\- Yes. It is one of my duty as duke of the Franks. And since my wife isn't there to take care of that, I have to do it.

\- How is she?

\- She is fine. Though she regrets she didn't get to meet you in person. I talked about you and your brother so much she said she knew you already.

\- I am saddened I didn't get to meet her. She and I would have been friends, I am sure of that.

\- Yes. Did I tell you that she was pregnant?

\- Really? Then congratulate her for me, would you? Tell her I am happy for her, Geirlaug said with enthusiasm.

\- Give her my congratulations too, Sprota said. Children are a blessing. Tell her that I wish her soon-to-be born child all the best.

Hugues nodded. Then, the group separated: Geirlaug and Sprota headed back to the palace, while the duke entered the stinky dark hospital. Sprota knew her child would be safe with Hugues in case of any attack made against her or her Guillaume. She trusted him.

* * *

Count Guillaume was waiting outside duke Guillaume's door. Again. He was torn between being furious and anxious. Having his demand denied by Guillaume of Normannia really got on his nerves. He didn't understand why his beloved Geirlaug's brother kept saying no to him. He knew he loved her and she loved him. He saw it with his own eyes. What on earth was holding him back? Guillaume would give anything in the world to marry the fairest lady of Frankia. She was worth anything he owned. Her hair itself was worth poems and war. He loved her so much every time he was away from her was a wrecking.

He entered the room just when two men got out of it. Guillaume recognized them as being the count of Flanders and the count of Vermandois. They bowed quickly to him and he nooded when they walked passed him. He would have to talk about this to Geirlaug later. She told him everything that happened with the counts and he didn't trust them. He shall also have a talk with Sprota about this. Who better than the duke's betrothed to get him out of their nasty influence? But, from what Geirlaug told him, Guillaume was very loyal and didn't doubt his friends enough. He was easily swayed. The count wished his homonym to realize it. He was to be his family and he wished to keep his family safe.

He stood in front of the desk of the heir of Normannia. He stopped writing and raised his head to him.

\- Count Guillaume. I suppose you came for the same reasons as yesterday. And the day before yesterday.

\- Yes. I came here to ask your sister in marriage. Again.

\- And what makes you think that I will accept this time?

\- Nothing. I just came filled with hope and out of despair. I want to marry your sister. That is the truth. I love her and I'd rather die and suffer in Hell than spending my life without her. She is my everything.

\- Do you realize that saying those great words to me won't give you satisfaction, Guillaume asked calmly.

\- Then what will?

\- I already gave you a clue, my lord. Now, leave. I have far more important buisness to take care of. But do not worry, I am sure you will figure this out.

The count left and slammed the door. He was consumed by rage. His demand was denied again! He felt like he could destroy the palace with his bare hands. Guillaume told him he gave him a clue but he saw none in what he said. What was he expecting? Him to commit suicide in front of everyone? That sounded dramatic but, after all, so was Geirlaug. Maybe her brother was the same. Maybe they liked drama in her family. Yet, the count still didn't know what the norman was asking for.

Guillaume hit the wall with his fist. He was so angry. Everything he saw around him was red. If that was the duke's final answer, then, it left him no choice. He would have to act in front of everyone at the feast, but he was determined to achieve his goal. The duke would never deny his request in front of Geirlaug, the king and the court. Besides, he knew he had Sprota on his side. Nothing could go wrong.

* * *

Count Guillaume was sitting next to Geirlaug at the feast, as usual. He was waiting for the right moment. Sometimes, Geirlaug stared him, wondering why he looked so impatient. Finally the deserts were served. The count saw it as an opening. He stood up, and went at the center of the room, facing the king and his nephew, Guillaume of Normannia. He shot him a determined stare. The young duke seemed surprised by the southerner's attitude. Yet, he smiled with confidence. It was almost as if he knew what the count was up to. But Guillaume of Poitiers didn't lose his focus. He was here to ask for the hand of the love of his life. If he had to fight everyone in the room for that, he would.

\- Your highness, your grace, I stand before you to beg for something I consider as the greatest gift you could ever give to me.

\- What is it, the king asked intigued.

Guillaume kneeled on the floor and looked straight to his homonym with determination.

\- I desire more than anything to marry lady Geirlaug. I ask for her hand in marriage.

Geirlaug felt her heart race in her chest. She felt herself blushing and compelled to rush by his side to kiss every part of her beloved count's body. She looked at him, shocked that he dared to propose in front of the entire court, and moved from that romantic gesture. She put her hand on her chest, breathing heavily, almost crying from joy and gratitude. Then, she looked at her brother. His expression didn't change. He still looked impassive. Her green eyes begged him to agree. Yet, she was disappointed once more by her brother's words.

\- Why?

\- WHY? MUST I GIVE YOU MY REASONS AGAIN, Guillaume exploded. DIDN'T I TELL YOU ENOUGH OF HOW MUCH I LOVE HER? OF HOW SHE IS FIERCE AND STRONG? OF HOW HER INTELLIGENCE CHALLENGES THE MOST ERUDITE MAN IN FRANKIA? OF HOW SHE IS BEAUTIFUL? OF HOW SHE MAKES ME WANT TO LIVE? MUST I TELL YOU AGAIN THAT SHE IS THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY WOMAN OF FRANKIA AND DESERVES HAPPINESS? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR BECAUSE I AM TIRED OF REPEATING MYSELF!

Geirlaug stood up. Moved by such words she was now crying out of happiness. Then, she looked at her brother again, begging him with her eyes to accept. She wanted this marriage to happen. If it did not, then, this time, she would make sure her blades cut her skin right. She would rather die than spend a lifetime without him.

\- I accept, Guillaume calmly said. You proved you were a good man, my lord. I am pleased to know that we will soon be a family. Do you agree, uncle?

\- I do. A marriage is always a reason to be happy. And I am.

Guillaume nodded and then smiled to his sister. He knew she would be happy with such a husband. Geirlaug, on the other hand was crying out of joy. Her betrothed came in front of her, took her hand and kissed it tenderly. He was breathing heavily and never had she seen such a warm smile on his face. She felt the urge to kiss him, but restrained herself to do so. In his eyes, she saw nothing but happiness and impatience.


	20. Chap20: Departure

According to tradition, the wedding had to happen where the bride was born, or raised. In Geirlaug's case, it was in Normannia. In Rouen. So she prepared herself to leave Paris and its palace. She was glad to leave this court where everyone were stabbing his neighbor in the back. Yet, she felt sad too. It was there she met count Guillaume after all. She felt like she was losing something. Or forgetting something important. Of course, she knew she would never be departed from the count, yet she cherished those memories dearly. To leave for Rouen would mean leaving those memories behind, and that, that was a wrecking.

Nevertheless, Geirlaug was happy. She swam into happiness and contentment. To even think she was going to marry a man who loved and respected her was enough to make her feel like angels were singing. Soon, she would be able to achieve her deepest desires. Soon, she will possess him as he will possess her. It was good to simply admire and touch his body, but she wanted more. And what she wanted could only happen if both of them were married. She just hoped her father would be nice with him. She knew how intimidating he was. But with her mother by his side, she knew he would never dare to toss him across the room. He was wiser than this.

Count Guillaume too was happy. To tell the truth, he was so happy he kept repeating himself he was going to marry Geirlaug of Normannia. He was so grateful to her brother that he effusived in his thanks and blessings. He was under the impression that he walked on clouds. He couldn't wait to marry her. He deeply wanted to appease his lust with the young lady who will be his wife. He loved her and wanted to shout his happiness to the whole world. He gave a purse full of gold to a monastry to thank God and tried his best to be worthy of such an honor. He tried to resist the temptation of her hips, her thighs and her lips. He knew it would be a disgrace to have sex before the wedding, so he waited until that day.

Of course, he wrote to his parents about his marriage and received a delighted answer from his mother while his old father inquired if he succeeded in his mission. Guillaume felt himself fall after that letter. He was so happy, why did his father had to remind him of his failure? He was bitter too. His father seemed to never be satisfied with him. Of course he would never reach his greatness, but was that a reason to constantly remind him of that? The shadow his father cast on him was too much for him to see the sun. When he told Geirlaug about that, she gently patted his shoulder and said that he still had time, and that it was perfectly normal to want to enjoy one's wedding.

This day, both rejoined each other in the stables to make the last preparations of their departure to Normannia. Geirlaug carefully brushed Sleipnir while Guillaume petted its neck.

\- I can't wait to show you our sea. It is wonderful! Oh, and of course, I want to see you on a longboat. I am sure you'll get seasick, she joked.

\- So am I, the count laughed. Is everything ready on your side?

\- Yes. I had my dress made one day ago. It is beautiful.

\- I can't wait to take it off of your marvelous body, he purred.

\- Just as I can't wait to make you mine, she fiercely said.

\- Who said I won't make you mine first, he whispered in her ear while grabbing her waist.

Her body was entirely stuck on his and she could feel his warm breath in her neck. It was a delight.

\- I will ride you so good you'll be kissing my feets for the rest of our lives, she said daring.

\- I can't wait, he whispered in her ear.

She let a little moan out, tickled by the air he was making in her neck. He stroke her hair gently and looked at her with nothing but tenderness and admiration in his dark brown eyes. They were glowing. Geirlaug liked it when they glowed.

\- The archbishop said I had to change name when we'll marry, she changed subject.

\- What is wrong with your name, he asked puzzled and frowning.

\- He said it wasn't christian enough. That it was a pagan name. Besides, I don't think the people of Aquitaine would like to have a woman with such a pagan name as the wife of their lord. I believe they'll think I am one of the heathen that raided their lands a few years ago. Perhaps it is better that way. They'll accept me more warmly.

\- You're right. Unfortunately, Guillaume gloomly said. I am quite happy that you already know my people and their beliefs. Have you thought of a name?

\- I think Adèle could do the job...

\- Adèle... Why this name?

\- Doesn't it means "noble" in Frankish? I thought this migh be a good idea to remind everyone of how I am from noble descent.

\- Adèle... Yes. I think this is perfectly suited for the fairest lady of Frankia.

\- Are you referring to me, she asked with fake innocence.

\- You know I do, he laughed.

He put his forehead on hers and smiled widely. He stared at her beautiful green eyes. Everytime he did so he discovered new shades of colours. Everytime he did he felt the need of drowning into her eyes and never come back. She looked at him with tenderness and love, which confered a whole new colour to her eyes. She loved his as much as he loved hers. They might be dark, but she loved the orange shade they took when the sunlight hit his face.

\- But to me, you'll always be my Geirlaug. My beautiful, strong Norman woman, he said kissing her forehead.

Geirlaug smiled and nested in his arms. His warmth, the smell of the stables and Sleipnir presence made her feel so good she could have rested there for all eternity. But she had to marry first.

\- I should finish packing my clothes. Did you manage to pack your stuff alone, or do you want me to send a maid to help you?

\- I could use some help, Guillaume admitted. It has been a while since I arrived here. After our wedding in Rouen, I suggest we leave for my lands. I want you to know everything about your new fiefdom.

\- It is fine by me. But isn't the groom supposed to stay a year in the bride's family after their wedding?

\- Do you want to have sex knowing that your parents might hear?

\- No, she said frightened by this idea.

\- Then, we will leave after that. Do not worry, I'll give you time to say your farewell to your family. A month perhaps.

\- A month?

\- Yes. Is it too short?

\- No. A month is perfect, she said smiling. Thank you.

\- I know how much you love your family.

Geirlaug sighed and nested once again in his arms. Even if she was saddened to give up her name, the name her father gave her, she was content to marry the count. Of course, it would mean marrying down, which meant her mother might not appreciate, but Guillaume ruled powerful, large and rich lands, so she doubted Gisla would make any objection to her betrothed, especially when it was a love marriage. She couldn't wait to introduce him to her parents.

* * *

The count was in the middle of his packing when Geirlaug came into his room and beackoned him to follow her. Intrigued, he did as she said. They crossed the palace, empty because of the late hour and got out of the city under the sunset. She finally stopped at the border of the forest. He opened his mouth to ask her why she asked him to follow her there, but she put her index on her mouth and told him to be quiet. Then, with a mischievious smile, she howled. Guillaume was surprised at first, but soon after, a big wolf came out of the woods. Geirlaug turned to him and smiled, proud of herself.

\- Is that...

\- It is the wolf who bit me. I managed to find and tame him. Do not worry, it won't bite. And it's a she, by the way.

\- A she-wolf? This reminds me of someone, he said smiling.

\- Do you want to pet it?

\- Will she allow it.

\- Yes, she is the calmest wolf I know.

\- Do you know of many?

\- You would be surprised, she mysteriously said.

Guillaume bent to the wolf and stroke its fur, scratching behind its ears. The wolf closed its eyes out of contentment. Geirlaug petted the wolf gently, whispering tender words in Norse.

\- Did you know, she whispered to Guillaume, that my father's name means "famous wolf"?

\- No. Then you really are a she-wolf. Geirlaug Rollosdottir... The daughter of the famous wolf.

They smiled to each other and continued to pet the wolf. It laid down on its back asking for scratches on its belly and the humans did it with joy. The wolf seemed happy. So were the couple petting it. The sunset gave the scene something intimate. The tamed wolf would be their secret, one of the many things only them knew.

* * *

Sprota decided that it was time she told Guillaume the great news. After all, it was also his buisness and they'll have to marry sooner that he imagined. They had to hasten the organization of it and find the necessary props allowing them to marry according to Norse tradition.

She entered his room. He was writing on his desk, alone. Sprota came beside him. When he noticed her, Guillaume stood up happily and drew her closer to him. Then, he realized that she was slightly uncomfortable and anxious.

\- Sprota, what's wrong?

\- I have something to tell you, she said diverting her sight.

\- What is is? Sprota, you're beginning to make me anxious. Please speak.

\- It is a very important news. I need you to stay calm. Will you?

\- Always. Now speak, he begged her.

\- I am with child. Guillaume, I am carrying your heir.

Guillaume's face fell. He leant on his desk and stared into the void for a moment. Then, he burst out of a delirious laughter. But it wasn't mocking. It was happy laughs.

\- Really? I am going to be a father? I am going to be a father?

\- Yes. Yes you are, Sprota said caressing his cheek tenderly.

\- This is the best gift you could ever give to me. Of course, we'll have to fasten the marriage, but who cares? I am going to be a father!

He was crying out of happiness. Sprota gently put her his head into her hands and wiped tears off of his eyes. She looked at him lovingly and with pride. Then, Guillaume kissed her. His kiss was a mere breeze against her lips, but it was so tender, so full of love and devotion that she let herself go into his arms. She was happy, so was he. What greater happiness than this? He couldn't wait to tell his father that he was going to be a grandfather. He would be thrilled.

* * *

The day of departure came soon enough. Everything was ready. The servants and knights the heirs of Normannia came with were all ready and so were the count of Poitier's men. He only had a few servants and two knights but it was enough to enlarge the convoy. Of course, most of them were sad to leave Paris so soon, but at the same time, this meant that they were going to meet their families again.

The three nobles said good bye to the king early the morning. The king insisted to say his farewell in public. After all, they were his family: his nephew and his future wife, and his niece with her future husband. He gathered all the courtiers of Paris at the same spot Rollo, duke of Normannia was crowned and declared as the hero of Frankia. Geirlaug could hear the noble ladies whisper. She was proud to see that Guillaume's proposal had a positive effect on them. They seemed to respect her more.

Mue by an unusual feeling, she came before them and smiled gently. She forgave them. They made her suffer, but she forgave them. After all, didn't Jesus Christ do the same to his killers? Geirlaug was a good christian, even if her name wasn't. She held one of them's hands in hers.

\- I am going to miss you. This is strange, but it is the truth. I wish you all happy lives. Farewell my ladies.

A few of them, moved by this proof of nobility, swept a little. Geirlaug giggled between two tears. The count came behind her and put his arm around her waist.

\- We have to go now, he said with a low voice.

\- Yes. Yes. Good-bye, she said to the courtiers.

The king, on the other hand was inquireing about the path the convoy would take to Guillaume of Normannia while Sprota was taking care of the horses.

\- I suppose you won't ride all the way to Rouen.

\- No. My future wife is pregnant and I want to avoid any risk to lose our child as much as possible. We will ride until the iron chain my father had had built twenty-three years ago and then, a longboat awaits us. We shall arrive in Rouen in two days. Of course we will have to spend the night ashore.

\- Then, I wish all of you a safe trip. I will pray for your safety. I know that thieves are many in the forest. But coincidently, there are none in Normannia.

\- That is because my father's punishments are terrible. I thank you again for your warm welcome uncle. I will transmit your greetings to my mother. I am sure she will appreciate that.

\- She is my sister. It was my duty of welcoming you and your sister. Stay safe nephew. You and your family.

\- Thank you uncle, Guillaume said again.

Count Guillaume and Geirlaug came by his side, locked in a tender embrace. They bowed to the king and the three of them turned around to rejoin their large horses. Count Guillaume's was lighter, but it had something noble in its shape. All mounted on them and spurred on them. The procession left Paris catching everyone's attention. Children came to see the scene while people said their farewell to the nobles. When they crossed the gates, Geirlaug looked back for a moment with melancholy. She would miss them. But she turned back almost immediately. She was going home and would marry a man she loved. Why focus on loss when she gained something far more precious?

Guillaume of Normannia and Sprota lead the procession followed by Geirlaug and her future husband, continuously smiling to each air was fresh, in this afternoon beginning. The birds tweeted joyfully and there was no cloud in the sky. Only a soft breeze came to make the riders' hair flow. Geirlaug closed her eyes, trusting her horse to follow the lead, and inspired heavily. The smell of the forest was divine. The moss on the trees and the ferns still covered with the morning dew produced a fresh and natural fragrance. A wild fragrance. The smell of freedom.

She glanced once again at the count. He never stopped staring at her. He was as bewitched by her sight. He was marveled by her eyes glowing with happiness, her hair moving with the wind and the rythme of her horse riding among the trees, her hips moving in unison with her horse and its movements. He lingered on her hips. He tried to contain himself, but her hips hypnotized him. She noticed and giggled. She was happy that he desired her as much as she desired him. She wasn't better. She kept staring at his growing muscles. She bit her lips watching his arms hold the reins and his beautiful ass highlighted by the fabric of his tunic which tightened around it at every moves his horse made. He rode well, that, Geirlaug gladly admitted it. And it was a delight to watch him.

Finally they arrived at the iron chain. The sunset made it glow and the reflection of the red sun made the chain look pink or red. A longboat was secured ashore not far away. Guillaume of Normannia announced that they were going to spend the night there. That they would set sail tomorrow. In consequence, everyone set the camp for the night.

* * *

Sprota and Geirlaug were sleeping in the same tent. The count of Poitier's tent was in front ot them and Guillaume's was located next to the women's tent.

Suddenly, hours before dawn, they all were awoken by loud screams. The two women rushed out of their tents and realized that they were under attcak. Apparently, such a rich convoy drew many greeds. They were lucky on their way to Paris, but apparently, not this time. Guillaume got out of his tent with fury. He already unsleathed his sword and was ready to fight. He looked at Sprota hastly and she nodded to the question he asked.

\- Stay here, protect yourself, Sprota ordered Geirlaug.

\- Don't worry. Go, Geirlaug said in a hurry.

Sprota ran to her future husband's side, her dagger in her hand. Geirlaug took her two sharp knives out of her sleeves and headed toward some of the assailants. She killed one and almost got hit by another's bludgeon. But she was trained. She killed him by stabbing him in the head. She was covered in blood but she didn't care. Obviously, a noble lady would have fainted or cried because of such a terrible action, but not Geirlaug. She knew that in battle, it was kill or be killed. Her father took great care of putting this in her mind.

She saw a movement from the corner of her eyes. A man entered in her beloved Guillaume's tent with an axe in his hand. She felt herself fall. Not him, she thought. Anyone but him. Panick flooded her veins. All her blood was replaced by adrenaline. She saw only the tent. She had to go there. At any cost. She ran, not paying any attention to what happened around her. Every opponents was slayed the second they came I her sight. She did not make any unnecessary moves. She only sliced.

Finally she arrived in her future husband's tent. He was threatened by the thieve. His sword was unfortunately too far away from his hand and he tried to reach it without success. His opponent was blocking him and every move he made was vain. Geirlaug saw red. She was consumed by rage and panick. She did not think about it twice: she stabbed the man in the throat. He fell on the floor with a loud sound with a splash of blood. The count stood up, massaging his neck the thief took great care of strangling and looked at Geirlaug with adoration. He was so glad she was there. Her green eyes showed nothing but panick. Guillaume immediately felt the need to embrace her, to comfort her. But there was no time for this. Another man came in the tent and was about to hit the Norman with a sharp sword – perhaps stolen from another convoy. Instinctively, Guillaume grabbed his bow and arrows and shot the man in the head. Surprised, Geirlaug turned back and saw him fall on the ground. Then, she turned to Guillaume. His eyes were now burning suns. He was consumed by rage. No one would ever dare to take his Geirlaug away from him. He worked hard enough for her and did not want his efforts to be vain.

Geirlaug ran into his arms and cried out of fear and relief. Guillaume hugged her tight and drew her closer to his warm body. He kept whispering tender words to her in the tongue of Oc, which had the effect of relaxing her. Both were covered in blood, but they didn't care. They were alive and well. All was fine.

A few minutes later, Guillaume and Sprota entered the tent with panick. They both let a sigh of relief out and dropped their weapons.

\- It is over. They're dead. A few of them escaped, but I asked our men to chase them and bring them to justice. Are you okay? Both of you, Guillaume asked.

Geirlaug nodded and sniffled while Guillaume simply bowed his head.

\- You didn't lie when you said you were good at archery, Geirlaug said to the count.

\- I told you. What are we going to do with those bodies, he asked his homonym.

\- We are going to burn them. I do not want to poison the soil and the animals. My men are already taking care of this.

\- Any loss?

\- A few. Three servants and one knight. None on your side, dear count.

\- Fine. Will you burn their bodies too?

\- Yes. It is how we do. This is sad, but their names will be remembered and we will pray for them.

The count nodded. Soon, his tent was free from the two corpses laying on the ground and a big fire was lit in the middle of the camp, next to the shore of the Seine. The men threw the bodies in the blaze and prayed. A few men were tied not far away. The boat could not contain so much people. They would have to walk, tied to a knight's horse.

The sun was already full in the sky when the fire had finally faded. The men dismantled the tent and cleaned off the camp. It was as if nobody came here before. A part of the convoy went on the longboat while the other part left by horse. They decided to go ahead earlier to meet them in Rouen at the same hour. When everything on board was ready, Guillaume sounded the horn to announce the departure.

Geirlaug stood in front of the ship. Guillaume of Normannia and Sprota were cuddling at the bottom of it. Guillaume of Poitiers walked with trouble to where his beloved was.

\- Aren't you afraid of falling?

\- No, she laughed. It is there that you can feel the speed the best. Come with me. Can you feel it?

\- I think I am going to throw up, he grunted.

Geirlaug laughed. It was so fun to see Guillaume being seasick – though this was just a river . She held his hand and drew him closer. He loved her smile. She was so joyful and carefree. Her smile itself was enough for him to feel like he could achieve anything. He sat on the floor of the boat and closed his eyes, cradled by the sound of the boat sailing on the river and the sound of the love of his life laughing. He could finally relax.


	21. Chap21: Rouen

Finally they saw the walls of Rouen's castle. From count Guillaume's perspective, it was impressive, even if it still was far away from him. The white walls were high and he was sure they could reach the sky. The city was linked to the other shore of the river by a few bridges. He could see a few boats secured in what seemed like a harbour. The city was smaller than Paris, but it was big anyway. He could hear the noise merchants made and when he looked around him in the countryside, he could only see fields, apple trees and farms. There was not any doubt anymore: the land was rich and prosperous. The count knew it before, but it was only now that he fully realized it.

They cast the anchor not far away from the city. Guillaume was relieved to feel the ground again. If he had stayed one more hour in the boat, he was sure he would have jumped out of it.

\- Why are we stopping there, he asked his homonym.

\- We cannot go further forward. The bridges would stop us from going to the harbour and moving the longboat to put it in the place would take too much time and energy. So, we'll ride to my father's castle.

\- Perfect.

The count highly prefered the movements of his horse to the movements of a boat. Geirlaug was beautiful this day. She was glowing with joy. She was wearing the same dress she wore when she arrived in Paris. All of this made Guillaume's mind filled with memories. He sighed. She was so beautiful and graceful. It was a delight to see her in her environment.

Once mounted on their horse, they were rejoined by the rest of the convoy. All followed the two heirs of the duke of Normannia to Rouen, the capital of the duchy. To Guillaume's surprise, the wolf followed them to Rouen. He looked at Geirlaug to see if she noticed, but she was focused on the city. He smiled to himself. He nodded discretely to the wolf as a greeting and then went back to looking at the road in front of him. Maybe it would also follow them to Aquitaine after their wedding, who knows, he thought.

When they got closer to Rouen, Guillaume fully realized how big the castle was. It dominated the whole city. When they crossed the city, he noticed how diverse the people were. There was a lot of merchants and he even saw some northmen among the people. He recognized them to their clothes, the patterns embroidered on them, their tattoos, hair, jewels and shields. A few were carrying axes. Yet, despite this, he saw how delicate their patterns seemed and how refined their jewels were. How could his former friend have ever thought Normannia or even Vikings as barbaric? Seeing this would have probably changed his mind. But perhaps he wasn't such a good man after all.

While they were riding across the city, a few people came to see and cheered on their way. Apparently, they were happy to know that the daughter of their lord was to marry a powerful noble from the south. It was a source of celebration and there was no doubt that the duke would be very generous with them. He would probably share his personal stock of ale. Geirlaug joyfully greeted them as they did with her. She was happy to see them again. She loved her people and was proud of them.

After what semed hours, they finally entered the fortress. They dismounted and handed their horse to the stableboys of Rouen. Guillaume of Normannia was rearrangeing his outfit, helped by Sprota and Geirlaug came to find her betrothed.

\- How do I look, she asked him.

\- Perfect. As always, my lady, he purred to her ear.

\- Not here. Not now, she nervously said. I don't want my parents to see us.

Guillaume chuckled. It was so unusual for her to be like that. Perhaps, now that she discovered her needs as a woman, she was more shy around her parents, he wondered.

\- Alright, let's go! Father and mother are awaiting us in the great hall, Guillaume said sternly.

Sprota and the soon-to-be wed couple followed him.

* * *

The ceiling was high, but not as high as in Paris. The great hall really deserved the word "great". A table was located in the middle of the room, surrounded by chairs. Apparently, a council had been held not so long ago. The duke and his wife were sitting on two thrones at the bottom of the room, lit by the sunlight coming from the windows. He was wearing a long blue tunic finely embroidered, a cloak made of fur and was holding an axe in his hand. He seemed fearless and menacing. His wife, the princess of Frankia, was wearing a simple blue dress with narrow sleeves. She looked at her husband with a disapproving look. She seemed pissed by her husband's outfit. Guillaume of Poitier was impressed by the couple. All in them showed power.

\- Is it him? Your father, the famous wolf, he asked her whispering.

\- Yes.

\- He is very impressive, he noted.

\- I don't understand... he never wears the fur cloak usually. Not when it is summer. And what's with the axe? I thought he was done having it everywhere with him. Mother always scold him when he behaves like a viking. Oh no. Oh my God, she said putting her head in her hand.

\- What?

\- I think he is trying to be menacing to impress you.

\- Well that worked, he said while smiling. I am terrified.

\- Oh this is so embarrassing!

Geirlaug was red. She wished she could go hide in a hole and avoid people for a year. Her father was an embarassement where he was a pride before. Maybe the idea of losing his daughter to another man awoke some instincts in him. Fortunately, her mother was here to calm her husband down. Otherwise, he would have waved his axe and shout, to his children's embarrassement.

\- Welcome count, Gisla said standing up. You are welcome here, in Rouen, as the future husband of our precious daughter.

\- Not yet, Rollo cut her. Should I not give my consent to give my daughter away? Is it not how things are done in Frankia, he teased his wife.

Gisla smiled and sat back on her chair.

\- Well, young man, why should I give you my daughter's hand?

\- Father, Geirlaug protested.

\- I want to hear what he has to say. I want to know if he is worthy of you.

Geirlaug slammed her forehead with her palm, making her mother frown. Why did all the men around her thought she was worth the world? It was so annoying. She was aware of her flaws, so why did everybody kept praising her perfection?

\- I love her. That is as simple as this. I want to marry her because my love for your daughter knows no boundaries. Besides, isn't love not the main reason why you married her highness the noble princess Gisla?

Rollo grinned. Apparently, Guillaume's answer pleased him. But the boy was too smart for his own good. Even if Rollo found it interesting, he was still wary of him, and he was still afraid his daughter might suffer. He looked at him more menacing than ever. Guillaume was certain he was going to growl like a wolf. Yet, he bore his sight proudly. After all, his own ancestors were strong enough to repel the arabs in Poitiers, why wouldn't he be able to stand against one single northman?

On the other hand, Gisla smiled warmly to the young man. She liked his manners and his interest in her daughter. The truth was she regretted deeply sending her away to find a spouse for her. But the prospect of a love marriage filled her with joy and happiness for her daughter. She wanted her to know the same happiness she felt when she fell in love with her beloved husband.

\- What does my daughter has to say about this? Geirlaug, answer me honestly. Do you want to marry this man?

\- Yes, father, I do.

\- Why?

\- Because there is no one else I can be myself with. He makes me laugh like no other, he has my back and will always defend me and my reputation. He accepted my flaws and turned them into something lovable. He awoke the woman in me and made me realise that I could trust a man and be his equal. Father, he is very curious and kept asking me to talk about your culture, our culture, to him. He is bright. He rides well, knows how to shoot with a bow and arrows. He is caring, hardworking and gentle. He is perfect and more importantly: he saved my life and my soul.

\- I see... Well, I suppose I should accept.

\- Oh father! Thank you, Geirlaug exclaimed.

She turned to Guillaume, expecting him to be overwhelmed by joy and thank her father, but he did none of that. Instead, he was quiet and his expression was blank. After a few seconds, he finally came back to life and suddenly cried while laughing hysterically. He said something in his tongue and turned to Geirlaug a delirious expression on his face. Then, he wiped his tears and turned to the ducal couple.

\- Thank you, your grace! I will forever be grateful to you for letting me marry your amazing daughter. I am so... I am so... I can't find the words.

\- We accept your gratitude, Gisla said.

\- Now tell me, count Guillaume of Poitiers, how exactly did you save my daughter's live, Rollo said calm but with a shaking voice.

Guillaume looked at Geirlaug, and asked her if she was okay with him talking about that with his eyes. Geirlaug nodded with a comforting smile. She put her hand on his shoulder and then lowered it to grab his hand. She moved closer to him to feel his warmth better.

\- I prefer to warn you: this will be hard for a parent to hear.

\- I can take this, Rollo said. And I think my wife can too.

\- Fine. Perhaps you heard that my former friend, count Robert of Rambouillet attempted to rape lady Geirlaug. Fortunately, your son was there to stop him. It was painful for both of us. This day was the day I first asked for her hand in marriage. After this, she just wouldn't talk to me anymore. Which I found understandable. Your children asked justice to the king and he granted your son a trial by combat. Obviously, he prevailed. But your daughter's ordeal just begun. I suppose, your grace, he said to Gisla, that you know how implacable the court is. Well, rumors started to spread among the nobles that Geirlaug had sex with everyone of them, that she was a woman of little virtue. She was already exhausted by the attempted rape upon her, so the rumors only added to her tiredness. One night, I found her in the Seine, a knife in her hand, trying to cut her veins. I took her on my horse and healed her wounds.

\- Physical and mental, she added.

Rollo stood up and dropped his axe. He took his daughter in his arms and hugged her tight. At first, Geirlaug felt like she was going to choke, but soon, she realized how desperate her father seemed to be. He was shaking. Geirlaug suspected he was crying. Everything in him smelled distress. Her mother came to hug her too and comfort her husband.

\- I knew it... I knew I shouldn't have let you leave for Paris. I shouldn't have... Why did I not see this? I am... I am such a bad father... I am so sorry.

\- Rollo, this is not your fault, you hear me? This is not your fault, Gisla said calmly.

\- This is true father. This is the son of a bitch's fault. But he paid it with his life. My big brother made sure of that. Besides, count Guillaume was here for me. And I had the support of Sprota and Hugues, duke of the Franks. If anything, this experience had proven to me that I am stronger than I imagined.

Rollo stepped back to admire his daughter. She grew so much in such a short time. She was not his little princess anymore, she was a woman. Worthy of the greatest shieldmaiden. He was proud of her.

\- Guillaume, he warmly said to his son, I heard news from Sprota's father that you two decided to marry, is it true?

\- Yes. We decided to marry according to your tradition. I know mother may not approve of this but...

\- I approve, Gisla said. I will always approve of you, my son. And I am glad you chose Sprota. She is a force to be reckoned with. But I have yet to teach her how to behave like the wife of a duke.

Sprota bowed to the duchess for her kind words. Gisla complimenting her and making her worthy of her rank meant a lot to her.

\- I too, am proud of you son. You will be a fine husband, and, I hope so, a good father. Perhaps better than me and you also helped your sister and chose a worthy suitor to her.

\- I didn't do anything, he said blushing. She did all the work by herself.

The two siblings smiled to each other. Geirlaug grabbed her future spouse's hand and smiled warmly to him. She was filled with joy to be surrounded by her loved-ones. Finally she was at peace.

\- Now, tell me count, how is your father? I've heard he is very sick since his battle against us Normans, Gisla asked the young man.

\- He is sick indeed, and I am afraid he might pass away soon. Which is a pity considering how strong he was in his youth.

\- Ah, yes. I heard of the story of the bastard who fought for his title. Ebles Manzer! The man who conquered what was rightfully his with an army of southerners! He was a great man, even if he didn't choose his last battles very well. How is your mother? I've heard that she became an amazing woman.

\- She is. But perhaps not as amazing as yourself your grace. In my father's sickness, she takes every big decisions and rules when he cannot.

\- I like your mother. She gave me a great impression when I met her a long time ago.

\- With my father passing away soon, my mother deeply desires that I marry as soon as possible and that an heir to the county be concieved in the shortest delays. So I am glad I met the woman I want to spend my life with.

\- I will pray for your father's soul, Gisla said.

\- Thank you your grace. And I shall give your greetings to my mother.

Gisla nodded gently.

\- Speaking of greetings, mother, your brother sends his regards, Guillaume added.

\- It seems like the Guillaumes carry the burden of an overfamous father, Geirlaug noted to her beloved count.

\- It is up the men carrying that name to honor their father and outdo them, he replied. Which, in your brother's case, is not easy, he whispered.

Nor in my case, he bitterly thought. But he kept it for himself. A celebration such as an engagement was not to be tarnished by negative thoughts.

\- Well, now that civilities are over, perhaps you are hungry or thirsty for some ale, or cider, Rollo suddenly said. I have to confess that I am beginning to starve.

* * *

Once the diner was over and everyone went to their bedchambers, Rollo took his daughter with him to the outside of the castle. He sat on a bench in front of the stables and looked at the starry sky in the fresh air of a summer night. Geirlaug was used to his sudden moments of melancholy. She did not speak. She waited for him to talk first.

\- Are this kind of braids new, he asked. I think I never saw you wear that kind of style.

\- What kind of style?

\- Not well made, he chuckled.

Geirlaug blushed and stroke her two braids tenderly. She deeply wanted to share her joy with everybody, but she was afraid of this escaping from her as soon as she would do so.

\- Count Guillaume made them. He improves everyday. And he keeps saying that my hair is beautiful.

\- Hair are women's pride. I can't believe you grew so much. It seems to me that it was only yesterday that you fought with your brother over petty things, and I braided your hair in the morning.

\- I know.

\- Are you happy with the count?

\- Yes. He makes me want to sing and laugh everyday. Did you know that he also knows poetry? He sings a lot and he writes poems too. They have a language in Aquitaine called the tongue of Oc and it is beautiful! I also taught him some Norse words but he has trouble pronouncing them. He is so... he is so...

\- Alright, alright. I understand, Rollo laughed.

He went silent again. Nothing could be heard except the hooting of an owl and the howl of a distant pack of wolves.

\- I am glad you will get a happy marriage. I am relieved. I am also happy that you will know the same chance as I did. I loved your mother at first sight. And I still love her. Now I know that there is no one more suited for you than him.

\- Thank you father, Geirlaug whispered almost crying.

\- Now, I only want to know if he will treat you as an equal.

\- Who said he doesn't do it already, Geirlaug said mischieviously.

Rollo grinned. He was satisfied with his daughter answer, for he really cared for her to be well treated as a woman.

\- By the way, what did you do to the berseker sent to kill you, she asked curious.

\- I killed him. This idiot tried to sneak in, but I was waiting for him with my axe. Each man must die someday and this was his day. Now I suspect he is in Valhalla drinking mead with the gods and some of my old friends.

\- Fine. That is one thing I won't worry about, she sternly said. I am glad you protected yourself and mother. I took care of the counts by the way. They won't bother us if they care for their fiefdoms and families. Your great-niece and her friend were a great help. I am glad Sprota reached them in time.

Rollo grinned. He was proud of his daughter. No father could be prouder. Geirlaug hesitated for a moment to ask a question that streamed into her mind since she attempted to kill herself. Finally she asked her father:

\- Do you regret not being able to go to Valhalla now that you are Frankish?

\- Who said I was Frankish, he asked pissed. I am not Frankish daughter! I am Norman. I may never reach Valhalla but if it means spending eternity with your mother, then so be it! Of course, I am sad I will never be able to fight Torstein, Arne, Floki or Leif again. Especially since I owe Arne a repayment for what I did to him.

Geirlaug stayed silent. She knew how much her father had suffered in the past and how horrible his past actions were. But he proved he was worthy of the best and for that, she was proud of being his daughter.

\- I should go to sleep now. Tomorrow I will ride with Guillaume. I want to show him the sea.

\- I will stay a little longer. I am happy we talked.

\- Me too father.

Rollo kissed her forehead and she left him alone to his, now, usual melancholy.

* * *

When Rollo entered his room in silence, wrapped in his cloak, Gisla was about to go to bed. She was wearing her white nightgown: the one that made him want to make love to her. But time had its effect and the duke's old age did not permitted as much sexual activities as before. He swiftly removed his clothes and put a linen pant on. Gisla, even after all these years he had been her husband, was still fascinated by his tattoos. His muscles were old yet, seemed buffer. The duke was in a fine shape and so was his wife. She might be in her late forty, but she was still as beautiful as the day he met her. Her hair grew back since the day she cut it and her cheeks were sunken with the time. She had tiny wrinkles on the corner of her eyes, meaning that she must have laughed a lot. Her face had something more refined and sophisticated. She was not a princess anymore, she was a queen. Old age suited her well.

Rollo slipped into the bedshifts and kissed his wife tenderly. He stroke her beautiful hair and she drew patterns on his chest with her fingers following the fading lines of Hati and Skoll.

\- Do you think she will be happy, Gisla softly asked.

\- Yes. I think so.

\- This Guillaume is a fine man. He is perfect for her.

\- Yes. I told her so.

\- I am afraid of losing my little girl. Children grow up so fast. I barely taught her how to run a house.

\- Shhh... Don't cry my love. She will be fine. Fledgling have to fly out of the nest sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.

\- I know. I am just sad I will not be able to protect her anymore.

\- She is old enough to protect herself don't you think? Besides, I think my lessons and yours bore their fruits.

\- I am still mad at you for letting her play with knives, she noted.

\- Well, I thought she had to do honor to her mother, he teased his wife.

\- Very funny, she sarcastically said. Well, at least she did not run away with a heathen. At least she will marry a noble.

\- Was that meant to insult me?

Rollo asked it his face in front of hers. His lips were so close to hers she could feel his breath and the warmth of his skin. She grinned.

\- You know very well that it was.

\- But I am duke. I have been given great lands...

\- Stop it or I'll go sleep in the kitchen!

\- What. Are you going to tell me that things are done differently in Frankia?

\- I... I...

\- I love you.

\- You have an answer for everything, she scolded him gently.

\- I know, he said kissing her again.

Both fell asleep in their tender embrace and dreamt of simpler times when their children were still children and when they were still a young couple.


	22. Chap22: The day of the wedding

In the waiting of their wedding, Geirlaug and Guillaume spent their days across Normannia, riding, hunting and sailing. On their first day, they went riding in the forest. But Geirlaug's horse was so high and large, and she was so happy and careless that she hit a branch and fell of her horse. Of course, the animal stopped as soon as it realized its rider wasn't there anymore. But Guillaume laughed so hard he cried and his belly hurt. He knew the lady was fine considering her firery eyes and her quickness to get up. But his mockery had a very expensive price. As a repayment, Geirlaug inisisted to go sailing on the wild sea of northern Normannia. They set sail at Fécamp and since then, Guillaume kept throwing up. Of course, Geirlaug was very amused by this.

The count also insisted on hearing more tales from Rollo. He even considered having them written down on parchments and keep them in a room in Aquitaine. The viking reluctantly accepted. It was still hard for him to remember his former life, and teling his stories to a Frankish noble was as if he betrayed his people. But he did it nevertheless. He told him how he fought the men of the east, how they sailed west with his brother, how he betrayed him the first time, how he ascended to power and how he fell in love with his wife. The duke spared no details. He gladly talk about the blood he spilled, the executions he took part of and the amount of men he killed. Obviously it impressed the young count. But he wasn't afraid of him. More than anything, he admired the man for his exploits. Rollo talked to him about his gods, but not Ragnarok. Ragnarok was too serious of a story to tell a christian.

Ever since she arrived Geirlaug had the idea to offer a gift to her betrothed. A meaningful gift. She knew the count loved her eyes. He showed it so often by staring intensely at her. Geirlaug was happy he could lose himself in her eyes as much as she did with his. In consequence, she went to Rouen, one day to ask for a ring to be made. Of course she asked the best jewelry maker she knew, Magreth's husband, to do it. He had a gift with carving metal. His creations were always so delicate and marvelous. She asked for the ring to be adorned with an agate gem the same color her eyes were. Thus, she thought, he would have a memory of her even far away at war. Once the ring finished, Geirlaug ran to Guillaume and offered it to him in his bedchambers. His reaction was worth the heavy price she paid. He had blushed and roammed her hand with kisses. He had embraced her, telling her of how much he loved and adored her. He instantly had replaced one of his old rings with this one. Never had Geirlaug seen such a smile on his face. She was happy he loved it. She was happy she made him happy.

Within a few days, the weather got worse. It slowly began to rain and the sky went grey as suddenly as a wave could hit the keel of a ship. The clouds were low, as if they tried to touch the earth. The top of the hills around Rouen were drowned in the lowest clouds. They were so thin it was as if they barely existed. Guillaume had never seen grass that green. The hills and cliffs looked like waves of green grass and forest. Of course, the woods darkened with the sky and soon, it was forbidden to ride across them. The rain hit the ground with power and with a great noise. After two days of downpour it got thinner, as if the drops came out of the eyes of the tiniest fairy. That kind of rain, Guillaume had never seen it. It was cold and soaking through. The drops were falling slowly and walking under such rain was like walking in a fog of water.

Guillaume couldn't help but compare this climate to his own in Aquitaine. Usually, in the south, the summer were hot and sunny. Cicadas could be heard and the whole country seemed to sing under the sun. Guillaume often went to ride and enjoy the warmth of his lands. When it was too hot in the countryside, he came riding on the beaches. The big waves splashing the shore refreshed his skin burned by the sun. He would have given anything to enjoy such a summer, but he was in Rouen, in Normannia. And sunlight and warmth were a rare thing there, even in summer. He was to polite and respectful to Geirlaug to criticize the weather, but he really hated that ice cold atmoshere and its cloak of water.

Fortunately, this unfortunate problem could be solved by sitting by the fireplace, wrapping oneself in fur, drinking hot wine and hearing stories. The cozyness of it could easily make anyone fall asleep. And Guillaume of Poitiers was no exception.

This day, Rollo had gathered all his family and asked his children to tell him about the time they spent in Paris. Himself had shared with them the feelings he had toward the toxic court of the king much to Gisla's annoyance. This time, it was Sprota's turn to share.

\- As you may know, the prince Aethelred of Wessex came in Paris to discuss with the king of political manners. He kept whining on how they were constantly attacked by vikings and how the kingdom of York and the Danelaw were a threat to their own lands. On how they had to repel their attacks and they could get their old lands back. Naturally, the prince came to say that duke Rollo's lands were those vikings' nest. He accused us of working with them.

\- Go on, Rollo said amused.

\- Well, believe it or not: he asked for Geirlaug's hands on behalf of his brother king Alfred.

\- What, Gisla exclaimed.

\- It is the truth! He said it would make an alliance between our families and therefore, prevent on any raids on their kingdom, Geirlaug added.

\- Then what about Frankia? The northmen would raid in here and we wouldn't be able to repel their attacks either! Bloody Saxons, Gisla hissed.

\- I said the same thing. But the best part is yet to be told: Not only did Geirlaug denied their demand, but she stuck her knife in the table so deeply and with such violence the prince changed his mind. She astonished the whole court in one single second. She was so menacing it made even her brother step back in fear.

\- Sprota, Guillaume protested.

\- You know it's true. But this eventually led to count Guillaume's proposal. Guillaume asked him why and he exploded on how he loved and respected her. It was romantic and comedic at the same time.

\- Show me those knives, Rollo asked his daughter.

Geirlaug complied and handed her father her two deadly weapons. He inspected them with attention and after a few minutes gave it back to her.

\- Your blades are blunt. You'll have to sharpen them but it won't take long. Stucking your knives in the wood really damaged them. You have to take care of your weapons. This is also valid for you son.

\- Rollo. Don't encourage her. You know I don't want her to fight, Gisla scolded her husband.

\- I don't fight mother. I am just learning how to defend myself.

\- I guess I should give you this then, Gisla said.

\- She handed her an old dagger which pommel was made of gold and covered with refined gems.

\- For your wedding. You can tie it on your belt or put it under your pillow if you want. This is more of a pomp object than a weapon. This is my wedding gift.

Geirlaug stared at the object with glowing eyes. She looked at her mother with gratitude, joy and eyes filled with tears.

\- Thank you mother! It means so much to me.

Then, she hugged her tight. All the love and affection she felt for her mother streamed in that embrace. Geirlaug wanted to be in her arms forever and tell her how much she was happy she was her mother. Gisla was proud of her daughter. She might never say it explicitly, but she was happy she took from her father and was such a fierce woman.

Guillaume of Poitiers took a long gulp of his hot wine. Watching this scene between such a close family filled his heart with melancholy. He wished he had known the same relationship with his father. He had suffer for so long from his father's reputation. It was as if he would never be able to outdo him. The shadow he cast on him was so big and so dark he was afraid he would never be able to see the sweet sun of the south again.

He wished he would not be the same kind of father to his children. With luck, the family he'll found with Geirlaug will be filled with laughters and love. He could not wait until that day.

* * *

Geirlaug took shelter in count Guillaume's room. It wasn't far away from hers and she enjoyed going there as much as possible. It was rather late, but dinner had not yet been served. So, in the meantime, she spend the end of the afternoon with her future husband.

He was sitting on a chair and she was coiled up by the fireplace. Only two days before they get married. She couldn't wait. She felt like her desire was going to explode. She wanted him so badly every moves he made, made her want to roam his body with kisses. But she concealed it as she was used to do.

But unfortunately for her willpower, this day, Guillaume did not read or talk. He was singing. His voice had the gift of bewitching Geirlaug's mind. It was hypnotizing. Hearing him talking was enough for her to have her heart and body filled with warmth and love. So, obviously, hearing him singing raised her desire to its maximum. She kept fantasize about his muscles, his hands, his lips, his hips and what was in between. She saw herself run to him and undress him to cover his body with hers. She imagined his warmth on and inside her. She wanted to possess him this instant. She could not help but stare at his mouth intensly. Each of its moves made her breath heavily and she almost gave out a moan.

She loved his tongue. She found it beautiful and she did not hesitate to tell him. He was flattered by her compliment as much as she was flattered when he said he liked hers.

Suddenly, the song changed. It wasn't that story about a fairy marrying a man, having kids with him and disappearing in the form of a dragon anymore. It was something different. Something new. She recognized some of the words, but did not understand the overall song until he sang her name. _Geirlaug_. Hearing her own name being sung with another accent and from the mouth of the man she loved the voice the most made her heart skip a beat. He mischieviously looked at her, waiting for her reaction. She blushed and closed her eyes, bewitched by the rythme and the melody of his ode.

But it was too much for her to restrain herself. She suddenly stood up and pushed Guillaume onto the door opening it in doing so and kissed him with passion. The southerner suddenly felt the barriers holding his desire collapse as her lips touched his. He was as surprised as pleased by her sudden action. He grabbed her waist and his hands roammed her body with passion. She put her arms around his neck and stroke his hair with the urge to feel his warmth under her cold fingers. She pushed him so hard they were now in the corridors, Guillaume against the wall. The way she claimed his lips awoken his lover instincts and he suddenly turned her against the wall. The smell of her hair was so near he felt like he was going to die out of love for her. He roammed her hips and her thigh with his hand and their kiss became more passionate. More desperate. Geirlaug suddenly felt hot and Guillaume, hard. She felt her heart race like a thousand stallions and her head was deliciously dizzy. She moaned in his lips, out of pleasure. Moan which made Guillaume moan too. Her body was stuck on his and he fully felt her voluptuous breasts and her bewitching hips. Both couldn't let go of their embrace.

\- Geirlaug, a voice asked in the corridors.

They stopped as suddenly as they started. Geirlaug blushed and felt a wave of fear invading her body. When she looked at the owner of that voice, she realized that it was her father. She wasn't afraid anymore now, she was panicked. Her father seemed amused and yet stern. She felt like someone just poured a basket of ice cold water on her. She looked at Guillaume with panicked eyes. He looked at her just the same. The man was a berserker, the most dangerous warrior in Frankia. Who knew what he could do to him? He didn't want to die! He had yet to marry the love of his life! Geirlaug held his hand trying to find comfort. She gulped and finally said:

\- Yes, father?

\- What were you doing with the count?

\- n... nothing, she said with fake innocence.

\- If I recall correctly, you two were kissing. Am I right, count?

\- Yes, your grace.

\- Do not fret! It isn't I who will judge you on your behaviour, young man. But I can scold my daughter on the other hand. If your mother saw you she would have yelled and punished you. She would have been disappointed and I don't want her to be disappointed. Don't you think this isn't very appropriate for a christian lady?

\- I am going to marry him in two days. He is already mine, why shouldn't I show him affection?

\- From what I know of good christian behavior you cannot until you two are married before God.

\- But father! I am also your daughter. The daughter of a pagan.

\- This isn't a reason. You are christian Geirlaug. If you were not, I wouldn't bat an eye, but the truth is that you are. And as such I expect you to behave. Even with your future husband.

\- This is so unfair, she pouted.

\- I do not care. You are not allowed to touch him until the day of your wedding, he said in a grin.

\- But, she tried to objet.

\- Not until the very _day_ of your wedding I said!

Geirlaug tried to figure out what her father meant by that. He insisted on the word "day", and knowing his intelligence and his habit of playing with words, that meant there was a hidden message behind what Rollo just said. While she was thinking about this, Rollo left with a mischievious smile on his old face.

Geirlaug put her chin in her hand. What could he possibly mean? A day. A day started at night and ended at night. A day started at midnight... Suddenly she had an illumination. She turned to Guillaume and smiled widely.

\- What, he asked puzzled.

\- Nothing. You'll see tomorrow, she mischieviously said. I am glad my father didn't kill you right away. Perhaps he likes you.

\- Well I hope so. I fully intend to marry you. One full day and you'll be my wife. I cannot wait.

\- Me neither, she purred in his ear.

She kissed him softly on his cheek. He closed his eyes to enjoy her touch fully and then opened them to look at his beautiful betrothed. His eyes glowed with desire and hers with impatience. She eventually walked away, slowly, with regrets and turned her head back to him to enjoy his sight. One more day and they could know each other biblically.

* * *

Everything was ready for the wedding. Geirlaug's dress was marvelous and her tailors made tremendous efforts to finish it on time. Her jewelry was ready. The church was ready. The archbishop was thrilled already to marry the daughter of the duke – a pagan – and of the princess Gisla – a good christian. Rollo and Gisla gave their orders for the banquet to be the best the guests would ever have. The cook and the kitchen servants were happy of these orders and they gladly complied. They kept working with joy, preparing the cows, boars, deers and other feathered creatures which would be their main meal. The duke and the duchess even opened their cellar and shared cider, wine and ale with people that came with a request to the castle of Rouen. They were so happy to share their joy. Obvioulsy, there was still enough alcohol to get the entire town drunk the day of the wedding.

It didn't stop raining for all that. The thin rain stayed for the whole day preceding the marriage. Never had the clouds been so low. They hid the top half of the high hills and cliffs. Some might say the sky was going to crush Rouen and its inhabitants. But this grey sky stretched to infinity didn't discourage people to feast. The northmen in Rouen sang and drank mead in the rain, along with their fellow Frankish neighbors, and some even danced. After all, they were used to it.

On this day before the wedding, Guillaume's mother, the countess of Poitiers came in Rouen. She was too happy of her son's wedding that she felt compelled to come. Of course, her convoy was as impressive as the childern of the duke's when they came in Paris. It was a display of wealth even though the convoy consisted in only six people. As soon as they arrived, the countess went to greet the ducal couple. Gisla welcomed her with joy and Rollo, calm as usual nodded and let his wife take care of the other noble lady. She was far more suited than him to do it.

The countess greeted her son and his future wife. She liked the young lady: she seemed fierce and strong enough to defend the county when her husband would be at war. She also seemed to have calmed Guillaume down and to her surprise, when she saw her son training with his homonym and the duke, he gained some muscles. Her son wasn't a teenager anymore, he was a man. And that made her very happy.

\- I am very happy of your choice, my son, she said after dinner.

\- Thank you mother. Why didn't father come with you? I would have been glad he came to my wedding.

\- Your father was too tired and too sick to endure such a long journey, she sadly said. I am afraid his days are numbered. You'll have to succeed him sooner than I expected. I am sure you'll be a great count.

\- I doubt that. I am not as strong as father and I couldn't even bring back our title of duke. I begged the king, but it was for nothing. I will never be as great as father.

\- You will. You are his son after all. I trust you my son. Besides, your future wife will be of a great help when you'll rule. She seems to know what she is doing.

\- She is. She is very clever and I know she is fearless when it comes to defend what's hers. I love her, mother.

\- This is fortunate. That only means that your children will be strong. You two will be united and it will only benefit our fiefdom.

\- How is my brother?

\- He is fine. He regret not coming to your wedding but he has obligations in Poitiers. Being a bishop does not allow him to travel freely. Did you bring some book back from Paris?

\- Yes. I also wrote some stories Geirlaug's father told me. Those are northmen stories.

\- Very well. I craved for some new stories to read.

\- I know you love litterature mother, it is only natural, as your son, that I make everything in my power to give you something worth reading.

\- My boy, she whispered tenderly. I am proud of you. And so is your father, even if he doesn't show it.

\- Thank you mother.

Guillaume hugged her tight and kissed her forehead. Then she bid him a good night and entered her bedroom. The count was filled with joy and happiness. His mother came to his wedding and it felt so good to be surrounded by his loved ones.

* * *

He was awoken in the middle of the night by someone knocking on his door. He grunted and allowed his visitor to come in, angry to have been awoken the night before his big day. But when his visitor entered, his anger went away, washed away by a wave of love and affection. He recognized Geirlaug's figure and immediately lit a candle to look at her.

\- Geirlaug? What are you...

\- It is midnight, she simply said.

\- Yes, I know that, but why...

\- It is the day of our wedding.

Guillaume's face suddenly realized what she said and what her words implied. He straightened up in in his bed and breathed heavily.

\- Then... then it means...

\- Yes, she said in a breath.

Now that he lit some candles, he could clearly see her. She was wearing nothing but a cloak of wolf fur wrapped around her body. Guillaume gulped. She was so ravishing. So tempting. He felt himself becoming hard, just seeing her. The fur gave her a feral appearance and that was what made him fell for her in the first place. Her hair was kept messy and wild and her eyes were shining with lust. She was beautiful.

She dropped her cloak and it fell on the floor, revealing her naked body. She didn't blush like other noble women would do in such circompstances, she simply glanced at the man she desired with determination. Her eyes were almost daring. She walked forward his bed, slowly, letting him admire the curves of her body, tempting him to touch her. Guillaume removed his bedshifts as slowly as her and walked to her. His eyes never left her sight.

Her body was the most wonderful thing he ever saw. Her skin was pale and soft. She had a scar on her ribs but it only added to her beauty. He noticed several beauty spots on her hips and her breasts and she had other minor scars all over her arms and legs. He could have stared the curve of her waist, hips, thighs and breasts forever. Her breast were perhaps what he loved the most. Pale and pear shaped, they weren't big nor small and they graciously made her chest prettier. Now that he saw her naked body, he realized how muscular she was: just looking at her arms proved she was a warrior.

Guillaume breathed heavily and finally he arrived in front of her. Her eyes searched his with love and tenderness. He lightly touched her shoulders and lingered on her neck. Then, he took her chin in his hand and softly kissed her lips. She closed her eyes. It wasn't as passionate and violent as the one they exchanged two days ago. It was only a small soft warm breeze. Geirlaug sighed out of desire and let him kiss her as soflty as before. He went down on her ears, her jawline, her neck and her chest. He was as summer arriving after the coldest of winter: the most very welcome.

She suddenly opened her eyes and led him to his bed. She sat on it, never breaking eye contact and took his hand on hers. She kissed it tenderly, slowly. Guillaume moaned and kneeled before her. He craved for her body. He kissed her once again and he roammed her bare legs with his left hand. Slowly he moved it to her inner thigh and rubbed his finger around her sex. Geirlaug bit her lips to hold a moan. Guillaume gently caressed her lips with his fingers and she kissed it. She opened her mouth and sucked it. Guillaume moaned once again. He looked at her with devotion and began to kiss her inner thigh as softly as before.

His lips reached the entrance of her vagina and he began to kiss it with passion. Geirlaug moaned, still licking her beloved Guillaume's fingers. Her heart skipped a beat and her heart raced like a thousand stallions. Pleasure cut her breath like a wave hitting the keel of a ship. He kept playing with her lower belly with his lips and his tongue. He licked the upper part of her sex, tingling her senses. She put her hands in his hair and stroke it with devotion. She managed to say something between two moans.

\- N.. no.. this isn't apro.. o... OH... priate.

\- Oh? why, Guillaume asked still playing with her lower belly.

\- This... this is... so... sOOooh... domy, she said still moaning.

\- If you say so, he breathed.

He moved in such a way his face was close to her. He kissed his beloved Geirlaug and kept tickling her senses with his fingers. She moaned in his lips which made him harder. He was almost about to come. But he had experience on his side and he deeply wished to enjoy this moment as long as possible.

He removed his pants revealing his hard organ and his sculptural body. Gerilaug bit her lips. His butt was just as desirable, as tempting, as she thought it was. His growing muscles could have tear her many moans if she wasn't already moaning. His tan skin showed no imperfections and he had very few body hair. She noticed a birth mark on his chest. Truly, the count was even more handsome when he was naked.

Her body arched out of pleasure and she laid her back on the bed. Guillaume moved on her, still making back and forth movements with his fingers in her lower belly. She moaned again and he answered by a passionate kiss. His tongue gently caressed her as well as her lips. She put her hands on his back to feel his muscles, to remember his warmth and his skin. He pressed his hard organ on her inner thigh making her back arched more. She scratched his back with her fingers out of how much she loved it.

He stopped playing with her sex with his fingers and put his arms around her waist. He raised her body onto his and entered her. To her surprise, it didn't hurt as much as she thought it would. Actually, she loved it so much her head spinned. Her legs suddenly felt weak and her heart skipped a beat again. She came. Loudly. Guillaume changed position and laid his back on the bed. Geirlaug rode him entranced by his presence inside her. She moved in unison with him. She bended to kiss him. His hands roammed her buttocks and he moved them to her upper back, gently gripping her flesh, roamming her face with kisses.

His back arched. So did Geirlaug's. He came inside her and she moaned louder. He caressed her breast as she was riding him and she roammed his body with her fingers. She closed her eyes. Her head was completely upside down.

\- My... my stallion, she managed to say in between her moaning.

He straigtened up and took her by her waist. Both of their bodies moved in unison. They kissed each other, moaning and shouting out of lust. Never had they been so united and never had Guillaume felt so good inside a woman. The whores he had sex with couldn't compete against Geirlaug. She wondered why the Church prevented women to enjoy something that good. Obviously she loved it. And Guillaume of Poitiers was a perfect partner. He took her pleasure very seriously and all he did to her proved it. Apparently, men in Aquitaine were such lovers they allowed their wives and loved women to take pleasure in the action. Geirlaug was grateful she would marry an Aquitain.

They eventually stopped and fell on the bed, exhausted by the wild sex they just had. Geirlaug was smiling widely while Guillaume drew her closer to him. He put his arm around her shoulders, kissed her neck and her forehead and then, stroke her hair.

\- I love you, she whispered in his ear.

\- As do I, my love.

\- In a few hours we'll be married.

\- Yes. I can't wait, he sighed.

\- A few hours and...

She fell asleep. Guillaume looked at her tenderly and gently kissed her forehead. It made her smile and she nested in his arms, seeking some warmth, unconciously. He lifted the bedshifts to cover their nudity and he rested beside her.

\- Goodnight, my lady, he murmured.


	23. Chap23: Two weddings for Normannia

Both were awoken in the morning by loud shouts in the castle. Apparently, the bride wasn't in her bed. Guillaume was quicker to react, he woke Geirlaug up and she looked at him, asking with her eyes what happened.

\- They're looking for you. You're not in your bed, he whispered with horror.

Suddenly her face turned pale. Horror could be read on her face and panick filled her body. Her heart beat was so fast she could see the little thumps it made on her chest. She lifted the bedshifts in a rush. A small stain of red was located at the center of the bed. She pulled the bedshifts down quickly. Then she looked at Guillaume again. A knock on the door made them turned their heads to the source of that sudden noise. A voice asked him where his betrothed was . He answered that he didn't know and then covered Geirlaug with the stained bed sheet.

He looked in in the corridor to make sure no one was there and then told Geirlaug to run to her chambers quickly. She would explain the red stain by saying this was the last day of her monthly bleeding. She looked at him with panick.

\- Go! Go!

She silently ran in the corridors and after a few minutes he heard a door being slammed. She was back in her bedchambers. At last. Guillaume let a sigh of relief out. He laid his head on the door for a moment then took the cloak of fur from the floor and smelled it for a long time. He sighed. He wished she had stayed. They would have woke up slowly and he would have smiled at her. He would have whispered a 'good morning, you' and he would have kissed her beautiful lips. She would have nested in his neck and he would have been able to smell her hair longer. But instead, they had to deal with the mess they created. He had wished they stayed like this forever, but they had to marry in less than three hours.

\- So much for a romantic morning, he grumbled.

Then, he asked for a bath and prepared his wedding outfit. If he had to marry the love of his life and the woman who gave him his best orgasm, he better had to be clean and well dressed.

* * *

Geirlaug hastly hid the sheet she was wrapped into. She put it under her bed, remembering to burn it afterwards and quickly called for her maids. She asked a bath and her clothes to be ready and sat on her bed.

When she looked at the sky throught the window, she was thrilled to see that the clouds were slowly fading away. The sky was still grey but a small filament of bright orange sunlight could be seen under the sea of clouds. It was like the sky itself was celebrating her wedding. Rouen seemed to have lightened up for her. She couldn't help but smile widely.

She touched her bedshifts lightly to remember the fabric. It was the last day she was spending here, in her old bedchambers. It was hard to leave a place where she had felt safe in for years. Her eyes lingered on the room. She noticed the marking on her bed she made when she was still training with her knives. She saw her old doll at the other side of the room, covered with dust. The tapestries she made when she was still learning were still hanged on the walls despite the time. She smelled the scent of her room once more with melancholy. This was her smell. Now she had to share another's, even if she was addicted to it. She was leaving her childhood behind and was entering adulthood. She wished her mother was here with her to share this moment and to weep with her, but she was busy with the bishop and Guillaume's mother. This time again, Geirlaug was on her own.

Finally the servants came with a tub filled with hot water. One of them scolded the young lady:

\- Where have you been? We looked for you for hours!

\- I went walking around in the woods, she innocently said.

\- Cursed be your implusive and wild temper. I hope your husband will change that, the old servant said undressing her.

Geirlaug didn't replied to this and contented herself to smile. She entered the tub with delight and sighed heavily out of well-being. Of course the water wasn't as warm as Guillaume's arms but it sure relaxed her from her stormy night. She slowly cleaned her skin to get rid of her sweat and put some drops of perfume in the water to smell nicely. One maid cleaned her hair and brushed it with a comb. Once she was cleaned and fresh, she got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. She asked one of her maid, a Norse one, to braid her hair the most beautiful way she knew and the woman gladly complied. She was known as the best hairdresser in Rouen.

Once this done, she put her wedding dress on. It was wonderful. It was made with white silk and her sleeves touched the ground when she raised her arms. The neck was V-shaped and the whole dress was embroidered with golden thread. The dress highlighted her waist and her breasts finely. She had no doubt she would make her future husband dizzy. A golden belt made of leather was tied around her waist. Belt to which she tied the dagger her mother offered her. Finally, she put a gossamery veil on her head, held by a crown made of bronze. It wasn't a royal crown, but it was worth it. Her fingers were adorned by many rings and her neck bore the necklace her father gifted her with elegance.

She admired her reflection in the mirror when her father entered the room. He stopped when he saw her. Geirlaug turned her head to him, smiling warmly. But when she saw his face she realized he was almost crying.

\- Father, are you well?

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

\- Yes. Yes daughter, I am well. I can't believe you're going to be wed. It seems to me that it was only yesterday you were born. I am so proud of you, my beautiful Geirlaug.

He hugged her tight. From his shaking, Geirlaug knew her father was weeping. After a moment, he stepped back and looked at his daughter. She was so beautiful. There was only a few physical traits she shared with Gisla, but she was as beautiful. Rollo was happy he got to father such children as Geirlaug and Guillaume. They honored him.

\- Now, let's go, shall we? Everyone is waiting for us, Rollo said with a shaking voice.

Geirlaug nodded and followed her father to the horse that will lead her to the church. Once mounted on Sleipnir she suddenly was consumed by doubt. She questioned her choice. What if Guillaume didn't love her anymore now that they had sex? What if it didn't work? What if she puked on him? What if? Soon, she felt her head spin with all those 'what if' roamming her mind.

But as soon as she dismounted, all her doubts were swiped away by the sight of her beloved count in front of the altar, smiling warmly to her. He was so handsome in his red tunic embroidered with the same golden threads as the one on her dress. He was wrapped into a large and long cloak and he had tied a sword on his belt. On his hand, she noticed several rings and he bore a broch made out of bronze. He gently rubbed his thumb on the one she offered him and his smile widened. If she wasn't surrounded by so many people, in another place, Geirlaug would have kissed him and made love to him instantly. His dark hair were messy and he didn't shave. Geirlaug smiled to herself, knowing that he probably didn't have time. Perhaps she would find her own smell on him or in his room when night will come. In his eyes she saw nothing but adoration and love. He breathed heavily as she made her entrance in the church.

Rollo took her arm and walked her down the aisle. This wedding brought back so much memories. He remembered how beautiful his wife was and how she cried for the whole cremony. He was glad it wasn't the same for her daughter. He was glad she was happily marrying the count. He was happy she knew the same luck as he did.

Sadly for the old duke, the walk to the altar was too short and he had to give her to her future husband faster than he thought. He squeezed then gave his daughter's hand to the count's with regrets and then, came to sit beside his wife and his son. Guillaume of Normannia smiled to her sister to encourage her and then held Sprota's hand and kissed it.

The church was huge and yet, was crowded. People were standing behind the duke, his family and the other nobles of the country Every people in Rouen and the surrounding came to assist the marriage of the year. Geirlaug recognized her old maids, the one that had a child and went home to take care of them, the boys she played with when she was still a child, some vikings she saw around the city. Everyone was there to witness her wedding and she was happy to be surrounded by so many familiar faces.

Guillaume gently took her hand and both kneeled on cushions made of fine fabric placed in front of them. Guillaume bended to her ear.

\- What will we do about the bedshifts tonight, he asked whispering.

\- Don't forget that I always carry knives, she whispered back. I will take care of that.

\- I love you, he purred.

Geirlaug smiled and the bishop started telling mass. His speech was long, the mass seemed interminable and Geirlaug lost notion of the time. She began to daydream. It was only broken by them lighting an altar candle together, receiving Communion, and their kiss sealing their alliance. The bishop, then started the ceremony marking Geirlaug's change of name. He poured holy water on her head and after a prayer, he announced her to the crowd in the church as Adèle, countess of Poitiers. Geirlaug looked at her father to see his reaction and what she saw broke her heart: the duke's face was sad. All it showed was regret. She tried to cheer him up by smiling to him. After all, she was still Geirlaug. Gisla gently pat his hand and he finally got rid of his sad face.

Guillaume put a ring on his bride's thin ring finger and Geirlaug did likewise, trying as much as she could to feel his warmth. She smiled to herself when she thought of where those fingers were last night. She looked at Guillaume mischieviously and he answered by kissing her hand. It was enough to make his, now, wife breathe heavily. At this moment, Geirlaug was the happiest woman on Earth.

* * *

The banquet lasted the whole afternoon. The guests gladly ate everything that came before them: pies, cooked deers, roasted boars, chickens, soups, carrots and other vegetables. Soon, all the cheese and alcohol of the duke's cellar was gone forever in the bellies of the crowd. Geirlaug and Guillaume were kept apart by countless guests congratulating them for the major part of the feast. The short period of rain didn't stained the crowd's joy, on the contrary. They all sang and danced in the little drizzle that fell from the grey clouds from time to time. The more the afternoon progressed, the less clouds there were.

Guillaume's mother spend a lot of time talking with her daughter-in-law. She welcomed her in the family and adressed her her most warm recommandation. She also told her about her husband's childhood with mischief. She loved her daughter-in-law. She would make a great countess when her time will come. Then, it was Gisla's turn to keep her daughter away from her husband. Her duty as a mother was to warn the young bride of what would come next on her wedding night. Geirlaug hid a smile. If her mother knew she already experienced her husband's body, she would certainly punish her for all eternity and lock her up in the dungeon. Her father also adressed the groom his warnings which made Geirlaug feel awkward. She desperately wanted to touch her husband and to be with him to feel his warm body against hers.

Fortunately, they were sitting side by side at dinner so Guillaume seized the occasion to caress her leg under the table for the whole time they were sitting to make her remember of his hands. Thus, Geirlaug spent the entire feast biting her lips to hold her desire. She felt the urge to kiss him passionately but the guests prevented her to do so. Besides she could gladly unleash herself now that she was married. They had the whole night to achieve their desires. Yet, Geirlaug was still afraid that it might not be as magical as before.

For the whole time the guests were eating, Geirlaug and Sprota joyfully chatted about the latest gossips of the city, plots, schemes and of course, children. Then, it was their families' turn to speak. The speeches of their parents was so moving she wept a little. Guillaume took care of her tears by comforting her. He gently put his arm around her shoulder and stroke her hair with affection. It was painful for him not to be able to touch her more passionately. She was his wife! Why shouldn't he prove her his love?

Then, when the time had come for the newly wed couple to prepare themselves for their first night together – If only they knew – Sprota came to greet her friend once more and to reassure her on the matter. Geirlaug confessed to her what happened earlier that day and Sprota smiled. She was happy her friend freed herself from her condition. Guillaume of Normannia, as the good big brother he was, menaced the groom that if something bad ever happened, he would have to answer it in front of him with a sword. The count contented himself to smile and reassure his homonym. If he knew something, it was that, now that they already did it, it would surely be less painful for Geirlaug.

They did it again that night. It was their duty after all. A day of feasting didn't prevent them to ride each other with passion. And now that they knew their bodies, it was even more delicious. Guillaume soon found new ways to please his wife and Geirlaug rediscovered his body with pleasure. Geirlaug had been brought in her husband's chamber without any resistance and Rollo and Gisla insisted for them to be alone, driven by their common memories. With all witnesses gone, they gladly could unleash their burning passion.

It was only natural for them to possess each other with such desire. Geirlaug had an orgasm multiple times and Guillaume, countless times. The nightgown she was forced to wear was removed as soon as they were alone. They had sex the whole night, not even caring of their neighbour's sleep or theirs. They eventually fell asleep, exhausted, right before dawn.

They were awoken slowly by the rays of sunrise. Guillaume looked at the wonderful creature still half asleep in his arms. Her hair smelled so nicely and shone with the sun. He loved her. He loved her more than life itself.

\- Good morning, my wife, he tenderly whispered.

\- Good morning, my husband, she murmured while kissing him.

She yawned and then began to stroke her husband's hair. Husband. It felt weird for her who used to be so alone.

\- Your mother asked me if it would be fine if we left tomorrow. I wanted to know if it bothered you.

\- Why did she asked you this, he asked puzzled.

\- She said she wanted to come back to your father as soon as possible and that she wanted to introduce your wife to him. She offered me a place in her coach.

\- What do you say? Didn't you wanted to enjoy your parents' company as much as possible?

\- It's not like any of them would pass away soon. Your family is more important right now. This is more urgent. I could still pay them a visit once a year.

\- You are a pearl.

\- I am your pearl.

They kissed once again.

\- Your mother already began to call me by my christian name, by the way.

\- I suppose your father wasn't very happy to see you having to renounce your birth name. Who could blame him? Geirlaug is such a beautiful name.

\- I don't think my father will stop calling me Geirlaug. I remain his daughter, even if I am married.

\- My people will love you.

\- I hope so. If they do, then perhaps they'll respect and admire their count more, she tenderly said.

\- Thank you.

\- For what?

\- For your faith in me.

\- I am your wife. How can I doubt of my husband?

\- I swear to always take your advices in consideration and to treat you as my equal. I swear that I will protect you no matter what.

\- Didn't we exchanged our vows already, she giggled.

\- I wanted to tell you this. I felt it was important.

\- And I swear, she began solemnly, to always watch your back, to work for your interests, to take care of our children and to protect you. You are my life and I am yours. We shall never be departed from one another.

\- My beautiful wife, Guillaume murmured.

He tenderly kissed her forehead and then came down on her lips. His lingered on hers and she put her arms around his neck while moving onto him. They kept their embrace until the whole castle awoke itself.

* * *

But there was no time for them to stay in bed. A long day awaited them. Guillaume and Sprota were getting married that very day and the newly wed couple did not want to be late for their friends and family. Once their bedshifts collected – Geirlaug took great care of staining it with her blood, to her husband's disagreement on seeing her cut her skin because of the nightmares he had after her suicide attempt - they took a bath together and then dressed up for the event. Geirlaug put a green dress with narrow sleeves and embroidered with golden threads, on and added to her outfit, a viking apron tied to her dress with two bronze broaches. Her neck was adorned with her necklace and she put some bracelets on her wrists. Her hair was beautifully braided which had the effect on making her husband kiss her neck in awe. She kept it simple but she was marvelous. She took great care of telling her husband what to wear. She didn't wish for him to look like a viking. His southern appearance was what seduced her in the first place. She handed him a blue tunic and a golden belt. She also gave him a dark blue coat tied around his neck by two broaches of bronze. The same as hers. He tied his sword on his belt and her, her dagger on hers. Geirlaug looked at her husband. He was handsome.

When they entered the great hall, everyone was already ready to leave for the place Guillaume and Sprota wished to marry. Of course, their arrival aroused cheers from the people gathered there. Rollo shot his daughter a knowing smile and Gisla looked at her daughter with a mix of disappointment and amusement. He told her. Geirlaug was sure Rollo told her about her stormy night with her husband before their wedding. She widely smiled to her mother. She knew that if she dared to punish her, her husband would come to rescue her and take her to his southern lands. Yet, she doubted he would be able to overcome an angry Gisla. But with the help of her father and her brother, perhaps...

The marriage took place on one bank of the Seine. The castle and part of the city could be seen and the place was surrounded by trees. It was there where Guillaume told Sprota he loved her. There, they first had sex. There, they were going to marry. They held that place dearly in their heart and Geirlaug knew it. She smiled to her husband. He smiled back.

Sprota was beautiful. She was wearing a crown made of wild flowers and straw in her blonde braided hair and her dress highlighted her waist and the many curves of her body. Now that Geirlaug knew she was pregnant, she began to see a little bump on her belly. Unless her mind played tricks. Her dress was beautifully done. Geirlaug suspected her elder sisters worked on it. The patterns of the embroidery work on her dress reminded her of the roots of a tree and its cream color embellished her skin tone. She wasn't wearing any jewel which, surely, would make Guillaume cover her with necklaces, blacelets, earring, and rings.

Geirlaug, for the first time, realized what a fine man her brother was. He might not be as handsome as her husband, but he bore his viking heritage with pride. He was wearing a tunic made of the same cream shade as his bride's dress and it was finely embroidered with red threads. On his belt he had tied his longsword and was wearing a cloak made of bear fur. Then, she noticed the proud eyes of her father on his son. She was glad he was happy with this. She knew he never had the chance to marry according to the tradition of his people. Gisla was holding his arm and smiled warmly to her son. It was the first time she witnessed a viking marriage. She was happy to see her son almost married.

Sprota's father came to greet his duke. Geirlaug had rarely seen him. He was tall, had a very bushy beard, yet, well brushed, and his long hair was tangled in a braid. He had tied an axe on his belt, just as Rollo did. Both men were wrapped in a cloak of fur and began to joke joyfully in Norse. Gisla, on the other hand, was talking with Guillaume of Poitiers about litterature. Obviously, Guillaume's mother stayed at the castle to prepare her departure. She was a christian and had no intention of being there for a pagan ceremony.

The master of the ceremony began her speech. It was an old lady. Old enough to have known Charlemagne. Two swords were handed to the couple. Guillaume took the old one that Rollo carried with him all his life and Sprota took the other one, a newly forged sword which blade was carved with old runes. They crossed their swords and put their ring at the end ot them. The old woman asked them if they wanted to take each other as husband and wife and both said yes. Then, they exchanged their swords and took the rings to put it on their fingers. They kissed and finally, they were announced as a married couple.

Geirlaug cheered louder than she should have. She was weeping out of joy. Her brother noticed and came to hug her. He tenderly smiled to her and kissed her forehead. Then, Sprota came by her side and hugged her sister-in-law. Her face was radiant. She shone with happiness. Her smile was so bright it seemed made out of tiny mirrors. Geirlaug asked her to protect and take great care of her big brother and then mocked him like they used to do when they were still young children. Guillaume of Poitiers congratulated his homonym warmly and wished him a long, happy and prosperous life with his wife.

\- We're both wed now, Geirlaug said her voice shaking with emotion.

\- I know. I am happy. Are you?

\- Yes. Though I will miss punching you and making your life miserable, she said still crying.

\- Thank God! I was wondering when I would be able to live without constantly looking behind me to see if you were going to attack me once again, he joked.

Geirlaug sniffled.

\- You idiot, she chuckled.

\- I will write you as much as possible. Don't worry, your brother is safe with me, Sprota comforted her.

\- I know. I trust you. It's this little brat that I don't trust, she joked looking at her brother. If he makes your life terrible, tell me and I'll come punch him for you.

\- With a threat like you, she'll be treated like a queen, Guillaume of Normannia said.

\- She better be!

\- I will send you gifts for your wedding when we'll be back in Poitiers, Guillaume said. You're family now, after all.

\- Thank you count. The greatest gift you could offer me is for my sister to be happy.

\- I intend to love her until the day of my death.

\- I am glad to have you as my brother-in-law. May the alliance of our families be long and prosperous.

\- Amen.

Rollo announced the beginning of a second day of feast. His cellar still wasn't empty and he had some game animal he needed to get rid of. The wedding of both his children was worth the best he could give.

The feast was more magnifiscent this day than the day before. It was the future duke's wedding after all. Countless people across Rouen and the whole duchy came to pay their respects to the groom and his bride who would become their duchess. Guillaume and Sprota enjoyed this moment and took advantage of it to joyfully chat over a goblet of cider, not that they didn't chat all the time. Geirlaug and her husband took this feast as an occasion to hastily come back in their room, giggling like teenagers and make love again. They hardly kept their hands away from one another.

Geirlaug doubted that two days of feast would be enough for the crowd to feel full. They ate like ogres. Of course Gisla insisted that it was their duty, as ruler of this lands to welcome the beggers and everyone who came to pay their respects. Such a celebration was always an opportunity to do some charity work. Rollo, on the other hand, was drinking mead joyfully with Sprota's father and some of his warriors. Gisla glanced at him from time to time, smiling to herself, happy to see her husband this radiant.

When the night came, most of the guest were already alseep, stunned by the amount of food they ate. Sprota and Guillaume were back in their chambers where they made love and Geirlaug and Guillaume were in theirs, recovering from two exhausting days of feasting and nights of love making. Geirlaug had no doubt she would give him an heir within the year.

* * *

Geirlaug was sad to leave Rouen again and for good. Naturally, when the time had come, she had to pay her parents her farewell. Rollo cried. Something he rarely did. Gisla held her daughter for a long moment in her arms. She wasn't ready to let her baby leave. No mother was. Of course, Geirlaug was sadder. She had to say goodbye to Sprota, her best, and perhaps, her only friend. She had to leave Rouen and all its familiar faces behind. She would miss the smell of fresh baked bread in the morning, just as the usual forging sounds of the castle's blacksmith. She would dearly regret the sight of her father and her brother, training in the yard. And more than anything, she would miss the sound of Gisla's harsh voice when she was scolding her.

She was also afraid to leave for some unknown land and live in a foreign castle. It surely would take her years to adapt herself to it. But her husband took care of reassuring her as well as his mother. The countess was so gentle and generous with her Geirlaug felt she found a new mother. Obviously, she was very demanding and insisted to teach her the tongue of Oc during the journey to Poitiers. She asked for books to read and for tapestries to make. She wished to pass on her daughter-in-law everything a noble lady from the south wished to know. She never had a daughter to share those things. Geirlaug was happy. She felt loved and desired by her new family. A thing she needed.

Fortunately, she could take Sleipnir with her to her new home. It was a relief to know that she brought some of herself to her new life. She was also granted the permission to take some shields and other norman weapons and to her great joy, Guillaume showed her the norse tales her father told her written on paper. Now, she would always have some of her family with her.

The time had come to leave for good. Before she entered the coach she hugged her brother and adressed him a last advice.

\- Do not forget what I once told you, brother. Don't give your trust so easily. Be wary of men and other women for they will covet what is yours and try to destroy you. Watch your back and the one of your family. Be vigilant. Rest one eye open and do not hesitate to question things. Remember this.

\- I will. Farewell, sister.

\- Farewell, idiot, she smirked.

Guillaume chuckled. Even in such heart wrecking moments, she found time to joke and mock him. He wished her husband to have the patience to bear her presence. Little sisters were annoying, but he loved his annoying little sister. He would miss her. They grew accustomed to one another. They knew each other for their whole life and now had come the time of separation. Guillaume shed a tear.

After a last hug with her father and mother which tore her heart in two, she joined the countess inside the coach. By the opening of it, she waved at her family while the convoy which consisted in Guillaume's men, her mother's and some of Geirlaug's servants and knights, set off. Now, she was definitely crying.

Soon, the faces of her family blurred with the distance, reduced to a vague memory. She lost any clue of their scent and the walls of Rouen. The city, the noise it made, the harbour, the ships, the smell of what she knew and her beautiful Normannia were now just a memory.


	24. Epilogue

The lady sat at her desk in her bedchambers, and took a quill, ink and paper to write to her brother. Geirlaug was ageing as well as her mother. On her body, she bore the perks of multiple miscarriage and the corner of her eyes were scattered with muliple little wrinkles. She sighed. The sound of cicalas joined her in her writing. She wished they could be heard in her letter.

_My dear brother,_

_How happy am I to know that Richard is growing well. I am pleased he took his calm from Sprota. With you both as his parents, I am certain he will make a great duke someday. I hope you train him well, as father used to with yourself. The Norman dukes should always be great warriors._

_I don't have any luck with my own son. He is so reckless I am beginning to be out of patience. I guess it is my fault. Perhaps he took too much after me. Ah! My brother, I can already imagine you smirk when you'll read it. It seems to me that it was yesterday that we fought each other in the training yard. My fists miss your face dearly._

_I am sure father would be proud of your reign over Normannia in the monastery where he retired after mother's death. I was sad when I heard he killed a hundred christian people in the name of his gods. He used to respect them, us, so much. I guess mother dying a year after your wedding didn't help his temper. It seems to me that he lost his mind in his grief and wished to die to rejoin mother. I guess the amount of gold he gave to the priory of the whole duchy was a way for him to make amend and meet our mother in Heaven when his time will come. To tell you the truth, I do not wish for him to pass away soon. But I guess this is inevitable considering his old age. I feel mother would be proud of you too. You rule so well._

_Yet, I am saddened to know that you still trust the wrong people. I already asked you, begged you, to be defiant toward Herbert and Arnoul, but it seems you never listen. Your marriage before God with Liutgarde of Vermandois was for me a pain. I suppose Sprota wasn't happy with it. Yet, I know she is kind enough to let her live with you without making her life miserable. I know you don't love your christian wife, but I am still disappointed. If you didn't marry more danico, that situation could have been avoided. Now, Herbert can seek revenge for your attitude toward his daughter, how young she might be. I am afraid Baudoin, your godson might walk in his father's steps. I don't trust him so I beg you, my dear brother, to take care of yourself and watch your back._

_Writing of which, Hugues, the duke of the Franks came to visit us in Poitiers not so long ago. Our children played together and it made me smile to see that they got along so well. Guillaume, to my own amusement, tried to impersonate a viking to scare his comrades. I scolded him of course, he should not be playing with his ancestors' legacy. My son can be so reckless._

_Guillaume, my husband, opened a library in our palace of Poitiers after his mother's death. He said it was her last wish. You will be happy to know that the norse tales father told us are well kept and that I read it to my son as much as possible. At least, this is a consolation after the death of so many of my children._

_But you know me. I am strong. I didn't die in childbirth, which is a relief because I know my husband would kill himself and let himself to worse madness than our father. And I don't want my son to inherit his father's title and lands that young. I shall never lose hope to give him another child. When I'll fully recover from this, I intend to try again._

_I will end this letter by saying that I will send you monks for Jumiège's abbey. It is a gift I wish will grant you a blessing from God. May your life be long, brother. And may you leave a great lecacy. I have faith in you._

_There, brother. This is the end of my letter. I hope you'll hear the cicalas of Aquitaine when you'll read it and perhaps catch a smell or two of my new life. I suppose this might be odd for a married noblewoman who suffered many miscarriages, but I am happy._

_Your sister, Geirlaug, the countess Adèle of Poitiers._

 

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess this is the end then ^^ Thank you so much for following this story and all the reviews and feedbacks you gave me. This meant a lot to me. I am so happy I got to share this story with you since it is my first fanfiction with original characters. This is the longest and perhaps the best fanfic I ever wrote so far. Again, I can't tell you how grateful I am for the support you gave to that story. I appreciated your feedbacks so much and you're the best! Thank you so much for following this. I hope this story helped you waiting for 4b (and the disaster it will be). I hope you liked it and had fun reading it.  
> I do not know when, but some of these characters might come back in an upcoming fanfic (which I should start building) about Sig and Boda (because they are too good to lose and because I want them to be alive sooooo much! So Imma do them justice!). I will start writing this fanfic after I finish Crashing Waves (my upcoming Rolisla mermaid AU fanfic).
> 
> In real history, William longsword suffered the riots of norsemen settled in Normandy who found him too christian. But he shut them up by force and regained peace and stability during his reign. Yet, he was threaten by those he trusted the most: Arnoul and Herbert. Baudoin, Arnoul's son stabbed him in the back near Abbeville in 942. His son, Richard, was taken hostage by the king then rescued by Hugues, duke of the Franks and later he gained back his duchy by fighting and raising an army.  
> Hugues made an alliance with both siblings by marriage. Richard married his daughter, Emma (though they never had kids. Richard had a lot of mistresses but married Gunnor, a noble scandinavian woman more danico and she gave him his legitimate heirs including a duchess of Brittany, a duke of Normandy, and a queen of England) and Adelaide (born in 952), Geirlaug's daughter, married Hugues Capet who later became king of France and began a new dynasty; the dynasty of the Capétiens. William, Geirlaug's son was born in 935, one year after Ebles Manzer's death (I have him die right after Geirlaug is introduced to him.) and was known as a womanizer who cheated on his wife on many occasions. It should be noted that Adelaide was at first a security truce in a quarrell between her father and Hugues Capet. She was known to be very pious and bright and gave the king three living children (we do not know if she had some miscarriage).  
> William Towhead (Geirlaug's husband) gained back his title of duke in 962. Him and Geirlaug are the ancestors of Matilda of Flanders, Alienor of Aquitaine, the Capétien kings and many other royals. Geirlaug and her brother kept a good relationship until their death and she sent him 12 monks for the abbey of Jumiège in 940.

**Author's Note:**

> First time on AO3!!! I hope you'll like this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing and creating it. Please, forgive the historical inaccuracies. I have no pretention to be an history expert. This is called "fiction" for a reason. Yet, I tried to include as much historical elements as I could.  
> Geirlaug was Rollo's daughter, she married the duke of Aquitaine and their daughter later married the firt Capétien king of France. She is the ancestor to Aliénor of Aquitaine (who later married her brother's descendant lol), Blanche of Castille and thus, many kings and queens.  
> William married Sprota more danico and his descendant, William the second, conquered England and became its king in 1066.  
> I chose to use his name in French because I am Norman and damn proud of it!


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